3 norSBtT or THl |i;|r Ap nnnnti'isp.t/ No. GXLIL FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA, EUSTACHE BAUDIN: AN ORIGINAL DRAF A, or THBBB ACTS. BY JOHN COURTNEY, AvUwr of " Time Tries AU," " The Soldier's Progress,' " The Two Polts," ^c. ^c. ^e. WITH CAHT OP CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, dtc, &a AS PEBPOBMED AT THE PRINCIPAL THBAThES, Samuel French & Son Pb^LISHEBS, i.j. i.aa Nassau Street* LONDOl^ Samuel French PUBLISHEK. BOOKS EVKRV AMATE-IR SHOUIiD HAVE. kUAi'EirR'S OUIDE: or. Howto Get up Home Theatricals and to Act In them, with LaM«t. By- L»vn, Selected Scenes, Plays and other usefulinfonuatioa for Amateur SocieUes. Price 25 ot^ OUIDE TO THE STAGE. 15 cents. ^ AUT OF ACTING. 15 cenU. Anything on this cover sent by mail on receipt of prict FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. Price 15 Cents each.— Bound Volumes $L 26. ▼OL. I. lion 2 Faxiu I The Jj»i9y ot Ljoni i Blohallaa 6 The Wife i The HoneyitioaD T The School for Sc^i'**! A Money VOL. II. » The Stiwnger (0 Grandfather Wh>Vh«ad U Riobard III 13 Love's Sacrifice IS The Gamester U A Cure for the Heartaahe 15 The Hmnohback IS Doi» Ceesar de Baxan VOL. III. tT Th^ Poor Gentieman 18 Hamlet 19 Charles II «) Venice Pre«er»« The Jearoua Wlfo II Tne RivnU «2 Perfection VOf-- V. [Debts M ^ New W»y tt» Pay Old ti Look Before Tou Leap «5 King John •6 Nervous Man H7 Damon and KTlhlas 48 Clandestli? Marriage «? William Tell M D»v after the Wedding VOL. VI. «1 Bpeed the Plough 42 Romeo and Juliet ■W Feud*! Ti«tta^ ■U Charles the Twelfth *6 The Brld»' 46 Tbo Folllea cf a Night *7 Iron Chest [Pair l,»dy M Faint Heart Navwr Won vof- m. ^ Ro»A to Bwfa M>M»ci>«tb 41 Temper ii Eradna W Bertram M The Dae»nA ft5 Unoh Ado At>9at Hathlng M TtM Crltti VO!L. VIII, <7 The Apostate W Twelfth Night «9 Brutna 40 Siotpcon & Co 41 If erahant of Venice «3 01<> HefuSsJcTooQ^Hearta 43 MoantSkineeri [i-i-<;«« $i Three Weakf afte* Mar- VOL. IX. «5Lova C6 Af Ton Like It 67 Toe Hider Brat)«er 41) W*ru«.T 49 Oialppui to Town and Oaantry 11 JClDg Lear 73 Blno Devil« VOL. X. 78 Henry VIlI 14 Harried aa4 Single 75 Henry IV 76 Paul Pry 77 Gar Manoerlni; 78 SwieethearU a>- Wives 70 ^riooa FvoUy to 8be Scoops to Conquer VOL. XI. 81 Jallos Csesar 82 Vicar of Wakefield 83 Leap Tear 84 The Catspaw 85 The Passing Cload 86 Drunkard 87 Rob Roy 88 George Barnwell VOL. XII. 89 Ini;omar 90 Sketches In Iikdia 91 Two Krien^a 92 Jane Shore 93 Corsican Brothers 94 Mind your own Business 95 Writing on tiie Wall 96 Heir at Law VOL. XIII. 97 Soldier's Daughter 98 Douglas 99 Marco Spada 100 Nature s Nobleman 101 Sardanapalus 102 Civllixation 103 The Robbers 104 Katharine and Petruchio VOL, XIV. 105 Game of Love 106 Midsummer Nlghf 107 Ernestine [Dream 108 Rag Picker of Paris 109 Flying Dutchman 110 Hypocrite 111 Thgrese 112 Lffrour de Nesle VOL. XV. 113 Ireland As It Is 114 Sea of Ice 115 Seven Clerks 116 Game of Life 117 Forty Thieves 118 Bryan Boroihm& 119 Romance and Reality 120 UgoUno VOL. XVL 121 The Tempest 122 The Pilot 133 Carpenter of Rouen 124 King 8 Rival 125 Little Treasure 126 Dombey and Son 127 Parents and Guardians 128 Jewess VOL. XVII 129 CamUle 130 Married Life 181 Wenlock of Wenlock 182 Rose of Ettrickvale 133 David Copperfield 134 Aline, or the Rose of 135 Pauline [Killamey 136 Jane Eyre VOL. xvin. 137 Night and Morning 138 .£thiop 189 Three Guardsmen 140 Tom Cringle 141 Henriette, the Forsaken 143 Eustache Baudin 143 Ernest Maltravers 144 Bold Dragoons VOL. XIX. .145 Dred, or the Dismal I Swamp 146 Last Days of Pompeii 147 Esmeralda 148 Peter Wilkins 149 Ben the BoaUwain 150 Jonathan Bradford 151 Retribution 153 MineraU VOL. XX. 158 Prensh Spy 154 Wept of Wish-ton Wish 155 Evil Genius 156 Ben Bolt 157 Sailor of France 158 Red Mask 159 Life ef an Actress 160 Wedding Day [Moscow VOL. XXI. 161 All's Fair in Lot* 163 Hofer 168 Self 164 Cinderella 165 Phantom hM Franklin 167 The Gnnmaker of 168 The Love of a Trlnoe VOL. xxn. 169 Son of the Night 170 Rory O'More 171 Golden Eagle 173 Riensi 178 Broken Sword 174 Rip Van Winkle 175 Isabelle 176 Heart of Mid Lothian VOL. XXIIT. • 177 Actress of Padua 178 Floating Beacon 179 Bride of Lamermoor 180 Cataract of the Ganges 181 Robber of the Rhine 183 School of Reform 183 Wandering Boys 184 Mazeppa VOL. XXIV. 185 Young New York 186 The Victim* 187 Romance after Marriage 188 Brigand as Poor of New York 190 Ambrose Gwinett 191 Raymond and Agnes 192 Gambler's Pate VOL. XXV. 198 Father and Son 194 Massaniello 195 Sixteen String Jack 196 Youthful Queen 197 Skeleton Witness 198 Innkeeper of Abbeville 199 Miller and his Men 200 Aladdin VOL. XXVI. 201 Adrienne the Actress 202 Undine 203 Jessie Brown 204 Asmodeus 205 Vormons 206 Blanche of Brandywine 207 Viola 208 Deseret Deserted VOL. X.KVII. 209 Americans in Paris 210 Victorine 211 Wizard of the Wave 212 Castle Spectre 213 Horse-shoe Hobinson 214 Armand, Mrs Mowatt 215 Fashion, Mrs Mowatt 216 GlaLie at New York VOL. XXVIIL 217 Inconptant 218 Uncle Tom's Cabin 219 Guide to the Stage 220 Veteran 221 Miller of New Jersey 222 Dark Hour before Dawn 223 Midsum'rKights Dream [Laura Keene s Edition •224 Art and Artifice VOL. X.XIX 325 Poor Young Man 226 Ossawattomie Brown 227 Pope of Rome 2W Oliver Twist 229 Pauvrette 230 Man in the Iron Mask 231 Knignt of Arva ■li-2 Moll Pitcher VOL. XXX. I 233 Black Eyed Susan •234 Satan in Paris 235 Rosina Meadows fess 336 West End, or Irish Heir- 287 Six Degrees of Crime 288 The Lady and the Devil 289 Avenger.orMoorof Slci- 40 Masks and Faces )ly (Catalogue continued on third page of cover.) VOL. XXXI. 241 Merry Wives of Windsor 343 Mary's Birthday 343 Shandy Maguire 244 Wild Oats 245 Michael Erie 246 Idiot n'itness 247 Willow Copse 248 People's Lawyer VOL. XXXII. 249 The Boy Martyrs 250 I.ucretia Borgia 251 Surgeon of Paris 252 Patrician's Daughter 258 Shoemaker of Toulouse 254 Momentous Question 255 Love and Loyalty 256 Robber's Wife VOL. XXXIII. 257 Dumb Girl of Genua 358 Wreck Ashore 259 Clari 260 Rural Felicity •261 Wallace 262 Madelaine 263 The Fireman 264 Grist to the Mill VOL. XXXIV. 365 Two Loves and a Life 266 Annie Blake 267 Steward '268 Captain Kyd •269 Nick of the Woods 270 Marble Heart 271 Second Love 273 Dream at Sea VOL. XXXV. 373 Breach of Promia* 274 Review 275 Lady of the Lake 276 Still Water Runs Deep 277 The Scholar 278 Helping Hands 279 Faust and Marguerite 280 Last Man VOL. XXXVI. I 381 Belle's Stratagem 282 Old and Young 283 Kaffaella •284 Ruth Oakley 285 British Slave 38G A Life's Ransom 387 Giralda 388 Time Tries All VOL. XXXVII. 289 Ella Rosenburg 290 Warlock of the Glen 291 Zelina -292 Beatrice 293 Neighbor Jackwoo<: 294 Wonder '295 Robert Emmet i96 Green Bushes VO ,. XXXVIII. 297 Flowers of the Fore 1 298 A Bachelor of Arts 299 The Midnight Banquet 300 Husband of an Hour 301 Love's Labor Lost 302 Naiad Queen 303 Caprice 304 Cradle of Liberty VOL. XXXIX. 305 The Lost Ship 306 Country Squire 307 Fraud and its Victims 308 Putnam 309 King and Deserter 310 La Fiammina 311 A Hard Sti-uggle 313 Gwinnette Vanghaa VOL. XL. 313 The Love Knot [ Jndf* I 314 Lavater, or Not a Bs-" .'15 The Noble Heart 316 Coriolanus 317 The Winter's Tale 318 Eveleen Wilson 319 Ivanhoe Jonathan in Bnglanff 1 FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA, E])z ^ctfiifl IS'Qition. , No. CXLII. EUSTACHE BAUDIN; AN OKIGINAL DRAMA, IN THREE ACTS. BY JOHN COURTNEr, AvMior of " Time Tries All,'' " The Soldier's Progress, " The Two Polts," ^c. S^-c. ^c. TO WHICH ARE ADDED A description of the Costume— Cast of the Characters— Entrances and Exit*- Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the Stage Business. AS PERFORMED AT THE PRINCIPAL LONDON AND AMERICAN THEATRES. NEW YORK: SAMUEL FRENCH, 122 Nassau Street. (Up Stairs. "I 1 ^^^ ..u. ^ C^ U?^ ii 6 ?*iQO Q S S oj iis •r rs -S G iJ3 K CD ^ OPhC^ a^ •^ U Wc« faq E^ P^ O tJ „ .i?' « 03 G 5 » B O > cS Ph , c^ o I o -2 52 c o ^ 2 g Q) ft-! *J O o to rr, P e3 O O .g c .Si O fc- h oi Hf » ** ^ © *^ o 5§ ' S 5 P5 QfFT EST. OF J H. COBNiNG JUNE 20. 1940 .5-3 © ^^ 00 HgOP^ ?^ .2 .22 £ PMOP5a2 " 1 S is »j 03 52 -- 03 Oi 2 3 03 t I e3 s- o .PP g «= Sits ►^ 2 t:^ o £3 g s ^ a o o LJ I •^ ?? c-^ s: ^S.; 3 7;^ > -S = c g « -^ '2 "^^'^ 19 ^00«(^^^^^ <; ^ rii Q .2 bii w » § « s 11 bill EH rt'5^ i'2'^ 2-0 « s ' O o S §K o e « « br « ft K p Q -3 ^ ^ S 5o be c :2^5 L2 .S Q S rt g 5 H i-s W ►-» W ft ^ rt c ^ ^ ^ ^ rA «^l^^s£o5^S^>^ QO I K' ^ p^' p^' ^ o ^ c £ S O o "^ pS CO „ „ ^^^^.^^.2 f^ •^^r^^ o 2 r^ -? o be g Q)^ c: i3 J2 cs •r -»^ s M O W S ;25 o O o « o o '^ « WPh ^^ W CO O J < ^ fe « 5 o 'TIS o be <1 s 1 «i2 « S 5 2 ilCostume. — [Eustache Baudin.] ACT I.— Period 1798. EUSTACHE BAUDIN— Loose blouse [blue] with striped shirt, loose collar and neck-tie, dark French trousers, and gaiters, peaked French cap. ALPHONSE LAMBERTI— Coat [ciaret color] of the period, embroi- dered waistcoat, Avhit€ neckerchief, light pantaloons, French top boots, rather conical hat, and band. DELBOIS — French long frock, large French trousers, shoes, and gaiters. MONSIEUR MANCLERjC— Plain black suit of the period. MONSIEUR PONCELET— Slate or brown suit ditto. SERGEANT POMPONNEAU— Military suit of the time ; blue coat and red trousers. MARCEL POULET — Village suit; large brown breeches, flowered waistcoat, and white coat. GREGORY and PIERRE— Village dresses. COUNTESS D'ALBERTE— Rich travelling dress of puce velvet, hat and feathers. LOUISE— Plain dark boddice, red skirt. MANOU — Blue boddice, orange skirt, French handkerchief on hcdd. ACT II.— Period 1804. EUSTACHE BAUDIN— Dark purple velvet courier's jacket, red waist- coat [both trimmed with gold lace,] buckskin pantaloons, high boots, conical hat and band, black neck- tie. ALPHONSE LAMBERTI— Green coat, white waistcoat, lower gar- ments the same as First Act. MONSIEUR PONCELET— Darker suit. DELBOIS — Ragged trousers, old shoes, dirty waistcoat, coat long and much worn, old cap with large^^eak. MARCEL POULET — Red plush breeches, silk stockings, shoes and buckles, large livery waistcoat, ditto coat with long tails. DARVILLE — Plain black suit of the period. SERGEANT POMPONNEAU— Smart livery coat, breeches, top boots. ADRIAN — Livery. CODNTESS D'ALBERTE— Rich orange dress of the period. LOUISE — Black velvet, handsomely-trimmed head-cap, of beads. LOUISE— Blue satin. MANOU— Blue skirt, dark boddice. ACT III— Period 1811. DUKE DE BRISSAC— Rich plum color suit of the date. CAPTAIN HENRY BRISSAC— Officer's uniform— blue and red. ALPHONSE LAMBERTI— Dark blue coat, white waistcoat, dark pantaloons, Hessian boots. DELBOIS — A change entire — more in proverty. EARCEL POULET — Brown coat, character waistcoat, blue breech^.s. MONSIEUR BONCOUR— Black suit. MONSIEUR PONCELET— Plain suit. COUNTESS D'ALBERTE— White satin stomacher, &c. MADAME LOUISE— Grey rich silk, with head dress. MANOU POULET— Brown skirt, black boddice. EU ST ACHE BAUD IN. ACT I. SCENE I. — The Wine House of Eustache Baudin in the village of Bonville, near the Southern Frontier — there is, r. a coaking stove iipon which is 2>laced an iron heating ; lines on which things are hanging as ready for the iron ; a table, behind which INIanou is er/wloyed ironing ; there are also tables and chairs ranged at the otWer side for drinking ; door, r. ; a small stair going up to room, L. — the stage is open at back, and through the trellis-work and the Vine trailing is seen distance picturesque from hilly to mountain- ecus ; a road also appears to descend to all, by which all pass who leave on the l. ; another road continued from the descent rises, r. — Music. — Drum or bugle heard as curtain rises. 3Ianou. There T declare the morning parade is over, and I shall have my dear Sergeant Pomponneau here before I get my work done. [Bustles and takes another iron. Soldiers are seen to cross at hack from rise to descent.^ There are some of his men that he com- mands. Dear me, if I should become his wife and he become a gene- ral, why I should be Madame General Pomponneau — a little different that would sound to Madame Pullet, for that would be my name if I married Marcel ; before Sergeant Pomponneau came here I thought I loved Marcel, but Pomponneau is a military man — a hero — a warrior: Marcel a mere egg merchant ; the one smart, elegant, and handsome ; the other lumpy and loutish ; Marcel is constantly teazing, but I must really dismiss him. Enter Marcel Couchon, with basket on his head, from l. u. e. Marcel. Eggs, eggs — hen eggs — duck eggs — goose eggs — \Enter- ing.] Here I am [puts his eggs off his head] just dropped in, Manou, to see how my little dove gets on. Manou. Then you can drop out as soon as you please, for I am very busy and I don't want to be disturbed. [Feeling the heat of the iron and beginning to use it.] Marcel. Well, but I've got something to talk to you about. [UncoU" sciously placing both hands upon the table as in argument.] You see [Manou runs her iron along ivhich reaches his hands. 6 EUSTACHE BAUD1». Manon. Take care. Marcel Oh ! oh ! \Siamps, 4fc. 3Ianou. Couldn't you see. Marcel. I was telling you to see. Manou. And I told you to take care. Marcel [In fury] But I know what you are thinking of— that ser- geant, it's all through him ! Manou. It's all through your putting your hands in my way. Marcel You love that fellow. Manou. [Folding things.] I'm afraid I do ! Marcel. And pray what's to become of me 1 Manou. I really don't know. Marcel. And perhaps you really don't care. Manou. Exactly — and to tell you the truth, I had just before you " popped in" determined to give you your dismissal, and I therefore dismiss you at once. Marcd. Dismiss me — what, for ever ? Manou. For ever ! Enter Sergeant PoMPONNEAcr//'o?n r. u. e. * Serg. F. Light of my glory — star of my bravery — object of my bat- tle-cry — my dearest Manou ! Manou. *My Pomponneau ! Serg. P. Mine for ever. Manou. Thine for ever. [They embrace. Marcel. Ah ! [Staggers and falls on his egg basket.] Tm smashed ! Serg. F. And so are your eggs, my fine fellow. Manou. Ha ! ha ! ha I 3Iarcel Ruined in business as well as love. Serg. F. 'Pon my life I feel for you, give me your hand. Marcel. Ha ! stand off ! [Avoiding him and getting up] you military monster, I shall hear of your being shot yet. Serg. P. Ha ! ha ! ha ! my dear fellow, 'tis what we soldiers live for. Manou. Live to be shot 1 — oh, how shocking to be sure. Serg F. My love, 'tis the soldier's duty to be foremost in the attack, and to die bravely — his greatest glory. Manou. And what is to become of his wife when he's gone 1 Serg. F. He bequeaths her to his country's protection. Marcel. Rags and beggary. 3Ianou. Oh dear ! [Staggering. Marcel. You see what you've got to expect, but don't come to me when 3'ou're a widow. [Call of the hugle heard.] There you are called, Mr. Sergeant Pomponneau. Enter Captain Lahaire, tip rise, with Soldiers — sees Pomponneau. Capt. L. Sergeant ! Serg. P. Yes, captain. [Saluting. Capt. L. There's no time for the wine house — the route has come for Tours, we march there to day — come. Serg. P. I'm ready, Captain — the devil take it. [Aside. SUSTACIIE i AUDIX. 7 Marcel. Ha, ha, ha ! " mine for ever — mine for ever." [Imitates. Manou. [Crying.] [Oh— oh — oh dear — you are not going to leave me'? Capt. L. AVhat's the matter, my girl ] [Crosses to c. Manou. No — no — nothing, sir ! [Sobbing. Marcel. The matter's this — slie has been transplanting her affections from my eggs to his epaulettes, and a good thing she has made of it. Capt. L. Oh, indeed — well, she is certainly a pretty girl ! Manou. [Bobs a cuHsey.] Thank you, sir. Marcel. If she hadn't been handsome, do you think I should have condescended to love her'? Capt. L. 'Tis said extremes meet — and I have frequently seen hand- some wives with the most ordinary of husbands. Fall in, Sergeant, In the meantime, my girl, I'd advise you to fall back upon your for- mer love. Adieu ! [Lifts his cap. Serg. P. Adieu, dear, for the present — I'll see you before we march. Music — they march off. she sits and iveeps, r. Marcel. [Struts.] Eggs are down certainly — but I fancy I am get- ting up in market. Manou. [Looking the way Sergeant Pompoxxeau went J He is gone ! Marcel. Yes — why don't you go after him '? Manou. [Glancing archly.] What, after a soldier 1 No, Marcel — a joke is very well in its way, and by pretending to love the Sergeant I have found out how truly you love me. [ Goes to Marcel. Marcel. Oh, you have, chl and I have found out by the same joke how little you care for me. Manou. Now, Marcel, if you talk in that manner, you'll break my heart. Marcel. You don't break mine, though you've broken my eggs. [Taking uj)his basket.] Here's a squash ! good bye ! Manou. Marcel — Marcel — don't be a fool ! Marcel. I won't! 3Ianou. Hear me — stay ! Marcel. Go to the no, I won't send j''ou so far as that — go to your Sergeant ! Eggs ! eggs ! broken eggs ! damaged eggs ! Exit, c. and l. Manou. Ill punish you for this ; we have quarrelled before now, and I have had you at my feet in an hour. A pretty thing indeed, when a giri can't do as she likes with her lovers ! [Bell without.] Bless me, how the time slips to be sure; there are the vine dressers coming to refresh — I must bustle. Music — As she busies herself preparing — Vixe-Dressers are seen to wind up. CHORUS. Merry month of flowery May, Summer's herald 'tis to-day, Giving hope of harvest bright, Slakes our thirst with heart so light. 8 EDSTACHE BAUDIK. Wine, come bring us wine . Wine — wine — come bring us wine. [Manou serves wine. Enter Poxceiet, c. from r. Omnes. Health to our new master ! Pon. Thanks, my friends ; I have been but a short time proprietof here, but I feel certain from the ready hands of the men and the pretty smiling faces of the women that I shall live happily amongst you. Omnes. Long live our worthy master ! Gregory. Now we have little time to lose, our dial is the sun and he is never idle ; we'll pay for our draught. Pon. Here, my good girl— let this suffice ; [ Gives money.] and now, friends, to work. Omnes. Long live our worthy master ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! ^5 they exit, r. u. e., Manou offers change. Pon. Keep the rest towards getting you a husband. Manou. Thank you sir. Pon. You are not the mistress here 1 Manou. Oh no, sir — my mistress is busy up-stairs. Pon. And her husband 1 Manou. He went with some travellers to the next town very early this morning — their horse fell lame and he put his own to the chaise. Here comes my mistress. Louise Baudix appears coming from door l. — she descend the stairs and arrives on stage. Louise. Your most obedient, monsieur. Pon. Madam, yours. [Louise has a cloth on her arm as she begins to lay table. Manou. [Placing chair.] This gentleman, madam, is the new pro- prietor of tlie farm. Louise. Oh, indeed ! — most welcome, sir, to our humble home — we are not very elegant. Pon. It is elegant in its neatness, madam ; and speaks the good care of the housewife. Louise. [Curtseys.] Sir, comfort may be achieved without profu- sion. I hope monsieur, you will take some refreshment — my husband would be angry, I am sure, did I neglect his good neighbor in his ab- sence. Pon. [Crosses to l. and, sits.] I'll not refuse, ma'am, since you so kindly invite. [She jJlaces wine before him which he takes.] I should be sorry to be the cause of so good a wife, as I am sure a-ou are, en- countering the anger of her husband. Louise. Oh, sir, I wronged him when I spoke of anger, for his anger I never experienced ; he is too kind, and whatever my fault, a look or glance of disa})pointment from him is my only upbraiding Pon. Excellent ! happily indeed must such a couple live. Louise. It is such happiness as poets paint — as few I fear in this every EUSTACHE BAUDIK. 9 4ay ivorld enjoy ; we have no difference of heart, mind thought, or will. Pon. His name is [Distant horse hells heard. Louise. Eustache Baudin. Pon. Here's long life and health to Eustache Baudin ! Music. — ^/iifer Eustache, running, dressed in half -postilion fashion , skin waistcoat, ^c, c. from l. Eus. Louise ! Louise ! Oh, here you are, and here am I with such an appetite. Give me a kiss, and then [About to kiss her.] give me Louise. Eustache ! Eus. Eh ! [She points.] Oh— hem— you'll excuse us, sir, won't you 1 Pon. Of course ! Eus. There, [Snatches a kiss.] you see, sir, though married nearly five years, we are still lovers. Pon. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I hope you may continue so ! Eus. I hope we may, don't you love— eh 1 [Playfully. Louise. Eustache, don't be silly ; here is your breakfast all ready? [Places things, takes coffee from stove, ^c. Eus. And I am ready for breakfast— [T/irows his hat off, sits down and prepares.] A ride of fifteen miles helps the appetite, does it not sir 1 Pon. Yes, indeed ! Louise. This gentleman is the proprietor of the farm, Eustache. Eus. Sir, your very obedient— glad to see you— proud to see you— and what's more, hope we shall see you very often. [During this, he he is sopping his bread in the coffee and eating very heartily ; little Louise runs in and clings to his knee.] What my little toddlekins— jump up ! [Tosses her upon his knee and kisses her. Pon. Your daughter ? Eus. So I am told— I don't doubt the information— she is the pret- tiest and cleverest child in the world, [Exhibits Louise on his knee.] and I verily believe, peaceable subject as I am, if anj man were to contradict my assertion I should challenge him. Have' a bit of sugar ! [Gives LovisB some sugar. Louise. Come Avith me, Manou. You will excuse me, sir, my hus- band will wait upon ycu. [Poncelet bows. Eus. Oh, yes, 1 11 attend upon the gentleman. [They exit, r. By-the-bye, sir, will you partake ?— the fare is poor, but the welcome is rich. Pon. I thank you, I have had my morning's meal long since. Ex- cuse me, but you seem most happy in your choice of a wife. Eus. Choice ! she was heaven's gift, she's the very core of my heart sir. . J f Pon. She has an air superior Eus. To me 7 ha ! ha ! yes, I know what you would say. Pon. Nay, I would not offend so greatly. Eus. You would not offend me at all, 1 know it— I am proud of it, 3nd [Sighs.] yet it makes me sometimes uneasy, for should auf^htoc^ cur to deprive me of her ° 10 EtrSTACnE BAUDIM. Fon. n.we you, then, fear 1 Sus. No loar of her, but a dreamy foreboding- -you are our neigh. bor and L'hfill learn our little history. I am not a native of this village, but of another province. When about six years old, one night as I rocked my infant sister to sleep, a stranger entered our cottage — he held a child in his arms wrapped in a mantle, whose mother he said had been thrown from her carriage on the high road and he feared was much icjured — he left the child and departed — my father came from his labor and instantly hastened to assist the travelers, but he returned alone, having found no sign of carriage or of accident, and iipon the nej.t day all that we knew of the matter was that we where one more in family. Pon. Strange, indeed, and did you never learn any tidings'? ^Eas. None from that hour to this. Pon. No sign or proof % Pus. One — that want had not caused this cruel desertion, for loose- ly stitched in the mantle that covered the child, the next day was found a necklace, but with neither initials nor crest — my father made inquiry of jewellers in the next town in vain — the necklace was sa- credly kept— months, years passed — my sister having died of fever, the orphan became so woven roimd our hearts that I feared each knock — each strange approacli — lest claim had come to snatch from me my second sister. Pon. Your fears were evidence of a kindly heart. Pus. I had scarcely passed my fifteenth year when a heavy con- scription tore me away — my term of service expired, I flew home — for the means of life my mother had removed to this village; Avhile the child I had left I found almost a woman, beautiful and good, her industry alone the support, hope, and pride of my mother — need I ispeak then, of my heart's devotion, Pon. You loved her then 1 Pus. No I didn't. [Comically. Pon. No! Pus. I reverenced — but looking back upon her superiority, I dared not love Pon. But you married her 1 Pus. That's true, or we couldn't — that is, we shouldn't — have been ■blessed with this little pops. My mother was taken sick, and upon her death-bed revealed for the first time to Louise her strange history, gave the necklace to her hand, and in prayer fully begged me to be her protector-^friend — brother — she breathed her last sigh in our arms, and dying left us orphaned and alone. Pon. Happy must she have died, for those who succour and cherish the rejected and fatherless must have blissful hopes in their life's last struggle. Pus. Louise and I loved as "brother and sister ; six months passed, and whispers met my ears— for magpies will chatter— I felt the same home was incompatible with her good name, but when we talked of parting Fon. You found you loved t EUSTaCHE BAUDIK. 11 Eus. [Rises.] You are right, neighbor, and we got married too— ha, ha, ha ! This wine house being for sale, Louise insisted that I should dispose of the necklace, and purchase it ; and here we are — the sun never rising upon a happier couple, and its going down never blessing more joyous hearts. [Lifts up Child and kisses it.] Now, sir, you have my story ; and somehow I couldn't help telling it you, from the interest you seemed to take in the light of my home— my darling Louise. Your health, sir. Poll. Yours my good friend, and may no days blight ever come to you. [Music — noise of murmurs. Eus. What's that 1 [Murmurs louder — some of the Vine Dressers run up rise from road below.] Yonder people ascend the hill in haste. Look — a carriage — the postilion loses all control — the horses j^lunge and rear — if they reacli the pine dell it is death to those within. Your people will arrive too late — across the brook is the only way. [Rushes off and is seen to make a hap below. Pon. Run, dear to your mother. [Places Child* by stairs, who runs lip— then looks.] The hors^es disa|>pear behind the trees, in the most dangerous angle of the road — I fear to know the worst, yet cannot resist the strong temptation. [Exit, r. Music. — Enter Lamberti and Delbois, c.from l. Lam. [In cloak.] Phooh ! in this house we may refresh and make inquiry. Del. Let's refresh first and inquire afterwards. Lam. Ever in haste for refreshment. Del. I can't fast as you can— you are always thinking, it's a thing I never was famous at, and never could live upon. Jjam. Strange I could not trace the spot, yet the hut we found in ruins must have been the house, and the old woodman of whom we inquired told us those who inhabited it had left for this village. Del. Well ; come let's have something to eat. La'un. I see no one. Del. Well then, we must find them ; here has been something to eat and some one with an appetite. [Looking on table.] Hoa! within or ■without — up-stairs or down-stairs — above or below ! Enter Manou. Manou. I thought master was here ; did you call, sir ! Del. I fancy I did. Lam. Some wine, my girl ; [Throwing his cloak upon chair,] and what have you got to eat 1 Manou. The wine I can furnish you, sir, but I am afraid with very little to eat. Del. Whatl Manou. This is a wine house only ; the inn is farther up the road, Del. How far 1 Manou. About five miles. Del. [Aside.] Oh. lord, my stou&ch ! if2 EUSTACUE BAUDIF. Lam. Let's have some wine. Manoii. Yes, sir ; there it is, sir. Del. [Li passion.] A village without an inn— you ought to be swal* lowed up by an earthquake I Manoii. [Alarmed.'^ Lord, Monsieur ! Enter Louise down stairs. Louise. What is the matter, Manou 1 Manou. Only a gentleman wants to swallow us up. Lam. Excuse my friend, madame — he is a gentleman with an appe- tite, that's all and has learnt from your servant that this is not an inn. Louise. It is not, sir — nor does our village boast of one : j'et what, we have prepared we will with pleasure place before you ; here is bread, a ham bone, and I'll see if I cannot find you another snack or two. Manou, get the wine. • [Exit. Bel. Yes, here's the bone — but where's the ham ? [Cuts and eats.] I hate picking bones ! [Lamberti walks about ] What's the matter 1 Lam. The matter — how know I but the Countess may not be at our very heels 1 [Sits, r. c. Lei. AVhat then ? Lam. Everything — for when she saw the necklace exhibited in the shop at Tours, she recognised it at once as the one entrusted to my father to bear the expenses of her child's protection, at the time when she feared her parents might discover ths secret of her marriage with my uncle. Del. And what did your father do with the child 1 [Eating. Lam. Assumed to have placed it with a motherly Avoman, till her friends were reconciled, and she could own her marriage. Del. And were her friends reconciled 1 Lam. Yes, for she shortly inherited a title and fortune on her mo- ther's side, and her husband the property of a rich uncle, who cut my father off for his gaming and extravagance, leaving him solely de- pendant on his brother's bounty and the hope of becoming his heir. L>el. His heir ! oh, then they never saw their child again, of course '? Lam. Never, he took them to the cottage where he said he had left her — a well-paid couple informed them that the late inhabitants had gone, bearing the child with them to America. Del. Capital, and where was their .child '? Lam. Many leagues off— according to this map of ray father's — the hut we visited yesterday. Del. But what do you want to find the girl for 1 Lam. To marry her, and so succeed to all the Countess' wealth — my father died a beggar, and 'tis my only hope, my only chance of fortune. Del. In the execution of which project I am to assist you — that be- ing my only chance of fortune. Lam. Exactly ! [Music. — a murmur, and some appear as looking on something approaching.] Wliat's that ? [Goes to opening and looks off.] Ila ! am I deceived— no, it is the Countess : a party of country people bear hor hither, she apf>ears dying, if she is brought here and sees me, I am perhaps lost— this way. [Taking cloak. ECSTACUE BAUDIN. 18 Del. But I haven't half done. iMm. Come, I say. [Drag-y him. Del. What, with my empty stomach'? Lam. Would you ruin all ] {Draws him off l. d., Louise appears with tray. Louise. I bog your pardon — gentleman, gone ! [Sees people enter < ing.] Heavens, what is this % Music. — EusTACHE brings on the Countess D'Alberte fainting, with Poncelet and others following. Eus. A chair, Louise, prepare a bed, this lady has been thrown from her carriage and I fear much injured. Louise. The bed is ready, Eustache — poor lady. Eus, Do you attend to the lady ; I'll mount the horse and ride to Monsieur Manclerc; do you, my friends, run and assist the postilion in extricating the horses ; I'll not be long. All Exeunt except Countess, Poncelet, and Louise. Pon. [A movement.] She seems to recover slightly. [A little windoiv opens at side, l., and Lamberti is seen listetiing. Coun. [Slowly.] Where— where— where am II and where have I been borne 1 Louise. You are in safety, lady, be not alarmed. Coun. [Still reviving and looking aroimd.] 'Tis then no dream. Louise. No, lady ! be composed, collect yourself, you are better now. Coun. Yes ! I remember that fearful abyss down which I seemed to fall. Pon. From which you have been preserved by this good woman's husband, Louise. Who now rides for medical aid, Cowi. I need not that ; a little rest. Enter Manou and Little Louise. Louise. This way, [To Manou.] Assist me to bear this lady to our Lest bed room. Coun. This is kind. Louise. Our best assistance be assured, lady is yowr^ [Music—as she is raised by Poncelet and taken by Louise and Mawou, the child stands before them looking up inquiringly, the Countess utters a cry and faints. Pon. Heavens ! Louise. Lady ! Pon. It was at the sight of your child, Louise. Pray assist us, sir, to bear her to her room. Coun. No, no ! wliere is the mother of that child I saw but now 1 Louise. Here, lady. Coun. I would speak with you alone — alone, Pon. I will retire and watch your husband's coming. Exit, c. Louise. Manou, you av ill await us in yonder room — make all ready, Manou. Yes, madame. How very odd. [Aside. Exit, stairs, l. 14 EUSTACHE BAITDIV. Court. Your child 1 Louise. Here ! Court. Yes, yes ; in every feature. [Caresses child, and intensely. Dear, dear ; image of my heart. Louise. Wliat mean you, lady 1 [ With an anxious look. Coun. Your name 1 Ljouise. Louise Baudin ! Coun. Your family. Louise. Why ask you 1 Coun. As you love that cliild, tell me ! Louise. Alas, I know it not. Coun. Birth-place 7 Louise. I am ignorant. Coun. Age ] Louise. Ahout twenty two. Coun. [Taking out necklace.] Know you this necklace *? Louise. Yes, yes — 'twas sewn in the mantle in which I was wrap- ped when given to my foster parents' care. Coun. I am thy parent — thou art my child ! Louise. You my mother 1 I — I [Embrace. Coun. My poor dear — long sought child ! Louise. Am I so blessed as to embrace that bosom that ^ave life to me 7 Coun. It is your own resting place, and will be your refuge ever ; but tell me, when last saw you this 1 [Holding necklace. Louise. When it was taken to be sold in the neighbonng town, after the birth of our little one, to purchase this small home, the better to support existence — my husband sold it. Coun. Whose parents, for the supposed value of this bauble, bore you from the spot where you had been entrusted to their care, and that for years has severed you from your family 1 Louise. Then I am not your child ; they who fostered and protected me were incapable of such an act — nor would my husband, their son, have wedded me with such a guilty knowledge. Coun. He is poor, and of mean birth. Louise. He is my husband, and if poor in blood is rich in honesty. Coun. You must quit him ! Louise. Quit him 1 Never — never ! Coun. Have you no pride 1 Louise. Yes — the pride of honor, and the pride of love. Court. Your marriage can be cancelled — must be ; it was a fraud upon your unsuspecting girlhood, and the law will annul it. Jyovise. The law annul it ! [Aside.] Can this be 1 Enter Ectstache and Monsieur Manclerc, l. Eus. This way, doctor, [Sees Countess.] What recovered — won- derful ! I see you ladies don't like doctors, my wife don't, do you, love 1 Coun. [Aside^] His love ! [Louise and Child group. Eus. Lady I congratulate you, for when I extricated you from your carriage I realljr thought you were dead, but thank heaven, I sec you EUSTACHE BAUniN. 16 alive tnd well. Doctor, I have troubled yo'? for nothing it appears. Again, lad}^ I joy to see you so well. Coun. I thank you for your good wishes. [ With pride. Eus. [Looks.] Very cool ! But she is a countess I hear ! and I sup- pose a countess can't feel like common people, they must always be high backed ! Thank heaven, I am not a countess. Man. How do you feel, madame 1 our good Eustache was in great anxiety about you ! Coun. I was alarmed, I tha ik you. Have you a carriage here, sir 1 [To Doctor. Man. I have, madame. Coun. I would thank you for an asylum till mine is repaired, or I can send to the next town 1 Man. If 'tis your wish — certainly ! Eus. But you'll surely, lady, take refreshment 1 a glass of wino and [About to help her. Coun. I thank you, do not trouble. [HtV/i cool pride.] I will, if you please, depart with you, monsieur ! [To Manclerc] Here is for the trouble I have caused you. [Giving purse. Eus. Why, look you, lady. I saw your carriage and frightened horses on yonder point, Avhen, but heaven's interposition could have saved you ; had you been the meanest creature upon earth in such peril, I should as eagerly and as willingly have hastened to your aid. Reward entered not my mind, but manhood and its duty ! If heaven gave me the means to save a fellow creature in such peril, that's a greater reward than gold could be ! Coun. Your pride refuses my remuneration 1 Eus. [Crosses to -R.] My heart and honor, madame ! [With pride.] not my pride. [Countess offers purse to Louise. Louise. [ With great reverence.] I never do that which would wound my husband, madame. Coun. I must not be baulked thus. [With affection.] My sweet one, [Offering it to Child,] here is a plaything ! [Eustache steps between. Ens. [After pause.] I hope lady, you would not hurt the father, through liis simple and imconscious child. Coun. [As losing recollection.] Your child ! [In some contempt. Eus. Yes, my child, lady, that is Louise's child and mine. She is not yours, is she 1 [Louise is seen to weep, the Countess kneels and kisses the Child rapturously. Coun. [To Child,] May heaven bless you — come ! [To Manclerc. Eus. [Won with her expression of tenderness.] Madame, for your blessing on my infant may [He is about to express his gratitude and approaches — she with returning pride rejects him. Coun. Adieu! Music. — With a look upon Louise and Child, s7ic exits with Manclerc, Louise sinks in a chair, as Eustace walks up and looks after the Countess with his hand upon the Child's head. Louise What am I to do 1 how act '^ I dare not tell him, it would break his heart. [Aside. 16 KCSTAcnE BAUDIH. Eus. Slie's off, and joy go with her — these arc j-our high born ! [To Child.] I would not have your mother a lady with such a heart as that. Louise. She caressed our child, Eustache ! Eus. Yes, but she turned up her nose at us, that is to say at nie. I say if that's a specimen, T wouldn't have my child's mother a lady, that is — I beg your pardon, Louise, you are a lady, for you are good and grateful and, would be rich no doubt, if you could find your riches, and had your rights. Louise. And 'tis something to have our children protected from the chance of want. Eus. Want — that for want ! [Snaps his fingers andputs child io l.] while I have these strong arms and this willing heart, with health to aid them ! Louise. But the willing arm and heart are often paralysed by acci- dent or sickness. [ With a hurst of feeling.] Oh, Eustache, should wo lose you ! Eus. Lose me 7 Jjouise. Life is uncertain to all. Eus. True ! [As if struck] You, this child, would have then no protector. Louise. Unless chance should guide those who lost me, where they might discover and claim me. Eus. Well but they haven't claimed you yet, and they would'nthave you if they did, while I lived, I can tell them — you are my wife ! Louise. Yes, yes, and a happy one. [Thi'ows her arms round his neck. Eus. Well then, what's all this trouble about ; this is our child whom we both love, is it not '? Louise. Yes, devotedly and tenderly. Eus. Well then, here we are, three happy birds in one little wood- nest — birds of song, if not of plumage — for sickness, accident, or death we must take our chance, the highest have no other guard ; we will earn our humble meal with grateful hearts and mightily pray heaven's blessing on the morrow. Louise. [Aside.] I dare not tell him now. Eus. There, come give me a kiss, we have no time for melancholy. This is all owing to that confounded Countess ! I'll go and cut the cab- bages for dinner. Enter Delbois. Louise. You have returned, monsieur ! Bel. Yes. My friend is at the brow of the hill, and having press- ing business in the next town, would be obliged by your husband as- sisting him with the use of a vehicle to reach it. Eus. Yes, certainly I will. Here's a job, you must cut the cabbages yourself, my dear. Del. My friend is in haste. Eus. I am his man ! Del. You must start directly. EUSTACHK BAUDIir. 17 Eus. I'll put the mare to in a twinkling . Del. I'll tell him so : you'll meet him on the hill ; we will wait for you. Exit Delbois — music till end of scene. Uus. I'll he with you — good bye, love, I shall be back by seven. Get the dinner ready, and I shall have a good day. Bless you, [Kisses wife.] and you pops. [Kisses child.] Where's my hat 1 where's my whip 1 Give me a drop of wine. [She does and he drinks quickly.] One more kiss each of you, and the devil take the countess ! He goes off, Louise and the Child looking after him. Scene II. — The Heights of the Village. Music. — Drum is heard, and Vine Dressers and others come on r., and c, Gregory and Pierre b., and look opposite l. Gregory. The soldiers are about to march ; we shall have a chance of keeping our lasses. Holloa ! here comes Marcel ! [Drum. Enter Marcel, with cockade in his hat, seemingly much alarmed and very pale, l. h., he does not see hut runs against Gregory. Gregory. Holloa, Marcel ! where are you running to '? Marcel. I don't know : anywhere out of hearing of that horrible drum. Gregory. But they are about to march, and you have enlisted ! Marcel. I know I have. Gregm'y. How came you to do that 1 Marcel. I don't know : I Avas jealous of that confounded Sergeant Pomponneau ! Gregory. Well ! Marcel. I wish it was well ; his conduct was atrocious, Manou's be- came alarming. I left her, swearing I'd never see her again — got drinking in desperation — the drink made me valiant, valor made me enlist, I drank again till I got dead drunk, when the drum awoke me to my senses, and now I'm dead with fright. [Drum.] There it goes again, how it rings in my ears. [Drum. Pierre. Ha ! ha ! ha ! you'll have the shots ringing in your ears by and bye. Marcel. Don't! don't! [Alarmed.] you are an old friend of mine, now don't joke on so serious a subject. Pierre. I'm not joking, Marcel; how came you to make yourself such a fool for a v/oman 1 Marcel. I should like to see the man that hasn't, one way or other, made a fool of himself for a woman, he'd be a rare bird. Gregory. So he >vould. Marcel ; you have shown a proper courage, and she'll tell another tale when she receives the news of your death. Omnes. Aye, aye. Marcel. Aye, aye ! Ah ! you are all very consoling, kind friends, but will any of you take my place? [They turn, he observes them ] Ah, the world all over; they'll console you, but curse me if the) U help you. I say, Pierre I Pierre. WelH 18 EUSTACHE BAUDIir. Marcel You are a fine grown young man ! an uncommon fine fellow, taller and handsomer than I am ; I'll give you a chance of becoming a great man — you shall be my substitute, I'll run and tell 'em so ! Pierre. [Stays him.] Don't trouble yourself. Marcel. They'll take you at my recommendation in a minute. Pierre. But I am not taken with the idea. Marcel. But my figure is not a martial one, I'm not cut out for a military man. Pierre. Nonsense ; you'll do to be shot at ! Marcel. Not half so well as you; now only consider the chance of becoming a general. Pierre. And only consider the chance of becoming a dead man. [Omnes laugh — drum heard. Marcel. [In despair to all of them.] Isn't there a patriot among you 1 Pierre. We can't all be Marcels. Marcel. I wish any of you was Marcel, but myself. Enter Manou, l. 3fanou. Oh ! Marcel, what have you been doing 1 Marcel. What have you made me do 1 make a donkey of myself! Manou. No, you were a donkey ready made ; but never mind, Marcel, you'll think of me in battle, wont you dear 1 Marcel. [In despair.] I be hanged if I shan't. [Bugle heard — he trembles. Enter Sergeant Pomponneau with Soldiers, l. Serg. P. Come, my rival and comrade ! Marcel. What do you want 1 Serg. P. You ! [Marcel needs support. Manou. Oh dear, dear ! only think, to lose two lovers in one day ; was ever a girl so unfortunate 1 Serg. P. My love, I'll think of you when far away. Manou. What good will that do me 1 You had no' business to make love to me if you couldn't stay and marry me. Marcel. He had no business to make love to you at all, inveigling you out of your seven senses, and me into this horrible condition. How's the village to get on without me 1 Manou. I am so sorry, Marcel ! Marcel. It serves you right — wc might have been the pride and envy of the village. Serg. P. Come, fall in ! Marcel I shall fall down. [Aside. Gregory. Good bye, my brave fellow ! [Music till end of scene-^ they all bid good bye and shake hands — drum heard as on march. Serg. P. They are on the march ! Marcel. And I'm on the shake. Serg. P. Forward ! They exeunt, Peasants, r., Marcel and soldiers, i* EUSTACHE BAUDIIf. Id Manou. [Crying.] I don't think there is another young man dis- ©ngaged. SCENE III. — A romantic scene with vine clad hills, and a winding road, with ravine between the road and the front view, which is rude and picturesque. Enter Delbois, r. Del. Lamberti has sent me on in haste to watch their passing this spot, as the husband of his discovered cousin must be got rid of ; that done my friend's fortune is safe and mine also. [Small horse bells are heard at distance, and the calash of EtrSTAcnE is seen to pass the high road.] Hark! I hear the bells — let me prepare. [Takes out pistols.] I must be sure of my mark, he seems a courageous fellow, and.missing, I might fare badly with him. [Having looked to pistols, the bells be- come louder.] They near ! [Seems to fail] I can scarcely find the heart, bad as I am and have been, when I look upon that little home of happiness, their hearts of love, it makes me shudder, for I remem- ber my father and mother, as happy looking upon me with the same dotage as they on their infant, till I grew big in size and sin, and to be their curse. [Bells nearer still] Psha ! I am now a sin-stained and branded man, I must live and have no other way ; let me be care- ful not to hit my friend. [Bells closer — he aims and fires — a plunging noise and ring of bells.] I have hit the horse and not the man ! [Ijooks to other pistol — Eustaghe leaps down from high point, r. Eus. [Hails off.] lloa, monsieur ! here is the villain ! [As he is about to come doivn and is upon a ledge over the p'ecipice, Delbois turns and f res, Eustache utters a cry, clings as stagger- ing to an overhanging and scathed branch, it breaks from the loose earth, and as he fulls he utters the words. Eus. Louise, my wife! my child ! [Disappears as down the ravine. Lamberti enters r., and looks down. Lam. She is mine ! [Exultingly. Del. That cry — his wife— child ! Oh ! I am life cursed. [.4s Lam- berti arrives at his side he seizes him, and raises but-end of pistol] why should I not cast thee after him for this 1 Drums heard and Soldiers seen marching in the distance. Lam. Fool ! [Lamberti sinks on knee — Tableau, SND OF ACT I. 20 EUSTACHE BAITDIH. ACT II. SCENE I. — The Chateau of the Countess D'Alberte near I'erpig' non — a handsome apartment with entrance doors, r. and l.; win- dows, R. u. E. and L. opening to the ground — a large opening in c. with balcony or terrace, beyond which is seen a lake, over which is a handsome bridge, country beyond — the furniture is handsome — a large glass over the chimney, l. another r. Enter Manou as pleased with herself and admiringly , l. Manou. Dear me, what a difference fashion mates to be sure: really no one could recognize me who knew me at Bonville five years since, when I used to run about in my woolen jacket and heavy sa- loots — clump, clump, clump ; and there is as much change in my mistress, Madame Louise : a strange affair, the sudden disappearance of her husband, Eustache ! some say he was murdered, though no trace was ever found of him ; others that he eloped with a little girl who left the neighborhood about that time. She still frets for him, which is a thing I can't make out ; he was a good master I own and a good husband I believe, but la ! to pine after a man for five years ! I am sure I'd have forgotten Marcel if he hadn't been discharged from the army as useless and returned to us, just as Madame Louise was made a grea' lady of; she has made him her footnian, h^has made me his wife, and there he struts about as proud of his livery as a peacock of his tail after moulting time! [Going.] La, Monsieur Lamberti returns from his mission to Paris to-day and writes to the Countess that we are to prepare apartments for his new valet, let me see how I look ! [She steps on a chair before the glass, n. and surveys herself. Enter Marcel striding, l. 1 e. Marcel. I don^t think I want a duster to brush the cobwebs off of me ; I used to rail against the aristocracy when I sold eggs and poul- try, but now I tell a very differant story since I have become an aris- tocrat myself, I turn \\[\ my nose at every thing under silk stockings, [Sees glass.] by-thc-bye, I feel awkward at my bow, let me have a quiet practice. [3founts table before l. glass. Manou. [Having admired herself] Your most obedient, monsieur. [ Curtseys. Marcel. Your very humble servant, mademoiselle. [Bowing — they see each other reflected in the glass. Manou. Eh ! Marcel. Ah ! [Both turning. Manou. You vain fool ! What are you doing upon that table 1 Marcel. I am standing upon it. What are you doing upon that chair 1 Man&u. Impertinence ! you were admiring yourself, yeu affected EUBTACHE BAUDIK. tl 8}»e .' look at the cover ! get down ! such nonsense ! instead of aeeing if you arc wanted ! Marcel. Wy business is not to see if I am wanted— if they want me, 'lis their business to let me know it! Manou. Wliy, what do you think yourself? Marcel. A head footman ! Manou. AVithout a head ! Marcel. Do you mean to tell me I haven't a head % Manou. A block ! Marcel. A head ! Manou. Well, a blockhead ! Marcel. Ah, beware, you are my wife now, and I wont put up with it. Manou. Ha ! ha ! ha ! and that's the very reason you must put up with it. Marcel. [In rage.] I'll sting her ! [Aside.] Sergeant Pomponneau, you remember him 1 Manou. Ah, he was a deaf fellow. Marcel. Smashed eggs ! she is my wife and calls another rascal a dear fellow ! "Why didn't you marry him ? Manou. Because he never gave me a chance ; he never got wounded in the back and therefore never came forward. Marcel. It was a wretched day for me when I came forward. Manou. So I thought, for a greater wretch I never saw — half-dead, half-starved, and half-naked ! Marcel. How could I help it 1 Didn't the ungrateful wretches dis- charge me without a pension 1 Manoii. And without a character. "What would you have done without my interest with Madame Louise, I don't know ; I, sir, made you what you are. Mat'cel. And I suppose, if somebody were here, you'd make me something else 1 Manou. What do you mean ? Marcel. Sergeant Pomponneau ! Pomponneau has entered, attired handsomely as a valet. Pompon. Holloa — my name ! who the deuce can know me here, eh 1 What — no — yes — my little Manou ! Manou. La ! well I declare — my dear Pomponneau, is it really you 1 Pompon. It is my sweet. Give me a shake of your dear little hand and a kiss of your sweet little [Marcel between looking at him.] How are you, my cauliflower 1 [Hitting him on the head, which knocks out the hair powder and sets Marcel sneezing — he Jcissei Manou. Manou. Oh, fie ! Marcel. What was that 1 Pompon. I knew you were fond of the smell of powder, ray dear Manou. Manou. Don't before my husband. Pompon. Husband ! 22 eustache baudif. Marcel. Yes, lier truly begotten husband, and you dare to lay a finger upon her. Pompon. What! really married ! [T^j Manoit. Manou. Yes. [Seriously. Pompon. Sweet little boy 1 Manou. No ! [Seriously. Pompon. Lovely little girl 1 Manou. [Sighs. Marcel. What are you talking about 1 Pompon. I was merely asking Marcel. I'd thank you not to interfere with my family. Pompon. My dear fellow, upon my honor Marcel. Oh ! blow your honor ! Get out of this house. Pompon. Can't exactly do that, my friend, as I am about to become an inmate here. Marcel. Eh! what? Pompon. I have left the army, like yourself, and am engaged by Monsieur Lamberti as his confidential valet. Marcel. He has smashed my aristocracy, as he did my eggs ; [Aside to Manou.] I'll discharge myself and so shall you. Manou. I wont! Marcel. You shall, Manou. I wont! [Quarreling — Pompoxxe ad Zau^^s. Enter the Countess D'Alberte, e. Coun. What is this ? Manou. Sergeant Pomponneau, my lad}'. Marcel. Who caused me to enlist in the army, Coun. Silence 1 [Manou putting him up the stage — to Pomp^nneJIuJ Your business 1 Pompon. [Crosses r. c] With you, I believe lady ; Monsieur Lam- berti has sent me as his avant courier to announce his coming. Coun. 'Tis well ! Manou, are the apartments prepared'? Manou. Yes, your Ladyship ! Coun. Conduct this person to them. Manou. This way, if you i^lease. Marcel. I'll show him ! Manou. Nonsense ! Marcel. Never mind my nonsense ; I'm not going to have any of his. [They exeunt quarreling — Pomponneau laughing, r. Coun. So my nephew returns to-day from his mission to annul the low marriage of my daughter. I have used all my interest for its ac- complishment. The sudden disappearance of her wretched husband was a mystery to all. She still prays he lives and live he may, but my petition granted puts it beyond his power, should he ever appear, of claiming her as his wife. Enter Lamberti, he is very differently attired from the first Act—' in that having been much disguised in appearance,' with travelling dress, cloak, broad hat ^'c. — he now wears an elegant suit, Servani precedes him, l. EUSTACUK BAUDIir S« Servant. Your nepliew, madam. Lam. My dear aunt, I congratulate you. Coun. Am I successful 1 Lam To your every wish, the other Empendra Court Ecclesiastic in consideration of the wrong done by the abduction of your child, and her low maraige with Eustache Baudin, cancel the act, pronoun- ing the marriage illegal void m law, and annulled — banned by the church. Coun. I am then at last happy and my daughter free. Ijam. We have but to wait the arrival of the signed warrant, and then 1 may legally ask my dear cousin's hand, the fifth year has ex- pu-ed and I joyfuly claim the fulfilment of her promise. Coun. Nephew, she will doubtless make me happy and keep her word, though the pledge she has given to wed you, was most reluc- tantly yielded and cost us both more anguish than I would remember, therefore I now give her to you in faith and hope of your whole life's cherishing. Lam. Thanks, dear aunt for such a treasure. Coun. Prize it. [He bows.] I'll announce to my daughter her en- franchisement. [Lamberti leads her to door — hows her off, r. Lam. Click — deuce — ace — game, ha, ha, ha! [Takes the stage.'] Thus we of the world push on our fortune — Louise's husband stood in my way and I pushed him from me — gave Delbois a handsome purse to dispose of him and secure his own flight — my cousin now free — her husband gone — Delbois, my agent dead, or without knowledge of my whereabouts — I may consider myself for life safe and at my ease. During this and at the mention of his name, Delbois has entered, l., wretched and worn in appearance, and as Lamberti takes one chair — seizes another almost fainting and sits at the same moment as Lamberti who seeing him starts paralyzed. You here ! Del. Yes, quite by accident though. I saw you as you entered, saw at once the worldly stream was running well with you and being in anything but smooth water myself, I thought I could not do a wiser thing than make for the same harbor. Lam. You cannot stay here. Del. I must, and what's more I will ! Lyam. Must — will ! — and Avhy 1 Del. Because you seem to tread upon a very comfortable carpet, and one that will suit my corns exactly, I have nothing like so good a home myself, in fact I have no home at all. Lam. After that affair, I gave you a handsome sum, and wc sep- arated for ever. Del. How can that be when we are together now 1 and what's more, my dear friend, I never intend to leare you again. Lam. We agreed to do so, and Del. Ah ! well, we'll talk of that by-and-bye— you know I always bad a good appetite, and whatever else I may have lost 1 haven't lost 24 EUSTACHE EADDIW. that — so let your servants bring a tray well served, a bottle of yonj best wine — for I quite long for a gentlemanly repast. Lam. The servants and household must not see you — here take this! • [Offers purse, they rise. Del. Money is of no use to me, it a41 goes. I want comfortable board and lodging — I am tired of living one day and starving the next. Lam. You must quit this house. Del. I am too tired I tell you and I won't, besides I want to have a chat about old times, and the wife of that fellow we shot. Lam. Silence! [In fear. Del. Well, there I won't make you nervous, you have married her of course, and have the handling of her fortune, and being settled your self, you can of course make me snug 1 Lam. I have not yet married — and your presence here may destroy all and yourself, Del. Myself, how 1 Lam. She has ever spoken of your face being fixed on her remem- brance. Del. And yours Lam. I was much disguised as you know, she scarce saw me — it was your acute, craving, appetite, caused her notice. Dd. Can I help my appetite — I must have something now. Lam. Hark ! footsteps — this door, for heaven's sake — I will be with you anon ! [Pushing him in, l. Del. With something to eat. Lam. Yes, yes — lock the door within. Exit Delbois l, d. 2 e. On this day too — the curse of accomplices — were it to do again, my own hand Enter Louise. My dear cousin ! [Offering his hand, which she wiihdraivs from . Louise. Your pardon, I have too much anxiety here at my heart for ceremonious compliment. Lam. Cousin, what mean youl Louise. This. The Countess informs me that you have returned successful from a mission annulling my marriage with Eustache even if he live, a union which was as duly truly performed and registered as ever heaven's holy altar witnessed, what earthly law has power to sever us ; we were conjoined in sacred communion of heart, mind, thought and will. Oh, cruel and sinful is that act that tears those bonds asunder. Lam. Oh, cousin, you must see now that fraud lay beneath his surfaced love and that interest was the guiding impulse — he knew your birth to be above his station. Louise. His generous mind and soul, soaring beyond all interest, was incapable of fraud ; he ever knew me destitute of all protection, save that of his parents and his own, and he nobly became my life's ECSTACHE BAUDIN. 25 Louise. To make one for me, and that only at ray entreaty j but I am, you say, free and uinvedded even should Eustache live '? Lam. The Synod's order to that effect arriving, yes. Louise. And af liberty 1 Lam. Yes, according to law and the affectionate wishes and hopes of your lady mother, the Countess D'Alberte, at liberty to wed. Louise. [With desperate feeling.] Release me from this calamity! Lara. And you would fly to a still greater evil — commit a sin that shuts out hope of pardon. Louise. There can be no deeper state of suffering or sin than that resulting from shameless apostacy to truth and honor ; that which changing the heart's sworn faith and innocence, accepts and lives a foul and an abhorrent lie. Lam. Yes, the sin of obstinate defiance of the church, whose stern anathema you will sure incur by disobedience to your mother's will. 'Tis threatened, and it will fall upon you. Louise. Ha ! Ijam. I save you then from that fearful evil, that solemn curse, that desolating ban, wherein the irrevocable wrath of heaven is ex- pressed ; and this you impiously call calamity 1 Louise. Most fe.'ful and heart withering. Lam. Oh, reall}* cousin. Louise. For when, after two years weary watching for the return of my husband Eustache, and he came not; sick, hopeless and in poverty most dire: I yielded to my mothers prayer and came here, I dreamed not of this, and it but confirms the thought that long lias haunted me, that you cousin Lamborti had some hand in the disap- pearance of my husband. Lam. [Stai-ts.] I — I "? [Hesitating. Louise. You ! — for I remember two travellers were at our house, [lie again starts.] one I noticed not, but the other who came to en- gage my husband for that journey, from which he never rerurned to me, I could swear to — his face is ever before me. J)el. [Coming from door, l.] I can't stand this. Lam. A wild dream ! Louise. No ! I see hira plainly as if he were [She sees Delbois as he comes down — utters a cry and falls prostrate by chair. Jjam. My curse upon you ! Del. What's the matter "? who is she 1 Lam. My cousin ! Fly, or in another hour wc are both denounced as her husband's murderers ! Del. The devil ! but I have had nothing to eat. Lam. [Pushing him.] Go, cormorant — fly ! [Poiyiis,] through that door. [Points to l. d.] I'll meet you at the gate — your life here is not safe. Del. I'm off then, but I shall not stir from the gate. Lam. Aw^y ! [Pushes him off, l. d. Fnier Mdlle. Louise, /rom k. d. Mdlle. Louise. Ha, ma ! dear ma ! [Clings to Louise as she is rt- eovering, and Lamberti is about to raise her. 26 EUSTACUE BACDI5. Louise. [Rejecting his hand.] No — no — I Enter Maxou and Marcel, quarrelling, &. Marcel. I insist on j'our leaving this house imm^iately. Manou. I beg you wont make yourself such a fool. Mdlle. Louise. Ma — dear ma. Manou. My lady, what is this'? Louise. [Looking round.] Saw you a stranger 7 Manou. No! Marcel. Yes, I saw— he is up stairs. Louise. Ha ! Lam. [Alarmed.] Marcel! Louise. I denounce that man ! Marcel. So do I ! Manou. La, Madame, 'tis only Sergeant Pomponneau. Louise. Marcel, see quickly if there is not a stranger in the house or the grounds, and inform me on the instant; Manou, lam faint, lead me in ; come Louise, for your life may not perhaps be in safety liere. [Glancing at Lambertl [Exit Louise, with Manou and Mdlle Louise, r. 1 e. Marcel. I shan't look after strangers ; I've enough to do to attend to my own affairs now — damn Pomponneau, I'll look after him. Exit, in a great passion, l. 1 e. Lam. This encounter is ruin, I must get rid of Delbois at any price. [As he passes table, TS..] What's this'? [Takes up jewel case.] A case of my aunt's jewels ! [Slaps his thigh as with a sudden thought.] A man of talent never fails — I'll bribe him with these to disappear, their loss will account for his having been seen here ; if he return, I'll charge him with the robbery — now for him. [Exit, l. d. Enter ^ERYA^ifrom terrace, and Eustache with a packet in his hand. Eus. Deliver this to the Countess D'Alberte. Servant. Instantly ! Eus. And you Avill please to say, I must know from her that she has received it. Servant. Veiy well. [Exit, r. d. very pompously. Eus. These aristocrats ! their servants are tainted with pride ; and she is now doubtless as proud and looks with the same scorn upon the lowly — she whom I so loved, so worshipped — no, no, she was ever all charity and goodness — could I but find her and my poor child who was my pet, my pride, in whom my hopes seemed bouu 1, [S'l'^s.] who ere this has perhaps no remembrance of such a being — has been taught, it may be, to despise the class that owns her father. Re-enter Servant, r, d. Servant. I have delivered 5'our packet to the Countess, and she will Bee you shortly — in the mean time I will order you some refreshment EUSTACHE BAtJDIN. 27 Eus. None, I thank you, see but my horse refreshed — I would mak* the next stage to-night on my retuvn. Servant. Oh, very well, your horse shall have a double feed. [Exits at terrace, l. Eus. How long will this Countess keep me waiting ? Oh, how chang- ed my nature since that day I I seem to hate all who bear a titled name — instinctively to shudder, when sheltered by the walls that owu them. I cannot breathe freely here — I'll walk upon the terrace. As he exits at hacJc, Louise enters, r. Louise. It has come — the fatal instrument of law and power — that were he here before me would make us strangers, branding our union as illegal. Had I been widowed, I could have borne and bowed in res- ignation to the decree, but now — oh, fatal promise ! — yet who could longer resist a mothers tears 1 As the hour draws near, my heart palls at the redemption of ray pledge — I cannot make this sacrifice. It was no dream, the face I saw here but now; it was a living one and con- firms the suspicion that Lamberti caused our separation. I will know if that man is lurking near, for by him I am convinced my husband must have Enter Edstache, c. ' Eus. Lady, I [Sees Louise and stay-ts.] Louise ! Louise. Ha ! I am saved — I am preserved — and he still lives for me! [They embrace. Eus. lie does ! But is this real 1 Wife, look up, and confirm this dream of happiness ! Louise. Eustache, we have suffered deeply — our greatest trouble is still ta come. No, no, no — I am not your wife ! [Shuddering and half retiring. Eus. Not my wife, not my own Louise '? Oh, it is as I thought, sha is now to proud to own the poor man. I see — I see. [In despairing pride. Louise. See, Avhat 1 Eus. The cause of your flight — the reason of your absence from Bonville and of my endless miseiy. Louise. I thought j ou dead. Eus. And prayed it. Louise. Eustache, oh did you know Eus. I do, Poncelet informed me all, that that woman whom I saved was your proud and haughty mother, who could only show her gra- titude for life preserved, by trying to rob me of mine, or failing in that, to render life worthless — by blighting my happy home and crushing all that I could live for. Louise. Eustache, you wrong my mother, two years did I waleh, daily, nightly, praying your return, no tidings could we gain of you — nothing knew, but that your horse was found dead upon the road-~I expended my last coin for messengers and inquiry — health sank each coming day, Avith heavy sorrow weighing at my heart — I wa* desti- tute till a small cottage of Monsieur Poncelet's received u« 28 : EUSTACHE BAUDIN. Eus. Who s:ill would have protected you, Louise. Yes, yes, most true, but my mother Eus. I know ! she won you to her pride and you left wiih her. Louise. Not for myself, I swear, but for my child's sake. Oh, tell me how came all this evil upon us 1 Eus. I will tell you, for if I wronged your mother her presence was the cloud that ushered in the storm. I had scarcely taken the travel- ler a league upon the road when my horse was shot, my quick eye saw him who fired, I released myself from ray saddle — flew towards the villain — saw the flash of a second pistol — it was my last con- ciousness till I found myself in a strange place to which I had been borne, bound hand and foot — presumed and declared a lunatic. Louise. You were not mad % Eus. No, but money had done its work, and I was life-doomed amongst those deemed incurable, where the more I declared my sanity, the more they tormented and mocked mo. Louise. Then how escaped you 1 Eus. By assuming the exhaustion of approaching death — with ill- concealed joy, my cruel keepers dragged me to a low room leaving me to breath my last unheaded, I leaped from my pallet — seized tho lamp that gave dim light to my charnel house, set flame to tlie strav/ that was to be my shroud, it blazed, caught the dry rotting boards around, and amid the fears of jailors and tlie wild cry of their victims made my way through the dark night, flying with lightning's speed till I fell prostrate in exhaustion. Louise. Oh, dreadful ! Eus. And this is your mother's work ! Awakened on the morrow by the mid-day's blistering sun upon my fevered limbs, I found that I was far distant from my home, but thought of wife and child gave re- turning hope and hope gave strength — I journeyed on, and arrived to find it desolate — no wife, no child — all gone ! — fled none knew where. Louise. But my mother told Monsieur Poncelet Eus. That you wer« to be found at Rheims — to which I hastened, but in vain. Enter Madlle. Louise. Mdlle. Louise. Ma ! dear ma ! [Starts at seeing Eustache. Eus. Those features — the voice resembling, too ! Ha ! it is my ch . Louise. Hush ! [stays him, as IMadlle. LomsE flies towards her. Mdlle. Louise. Ma ! protect me. Eus. Are you not Louise. Oh, heavens ! Eus. What is this 1 Mdlle. Louise. Dear ma ! who is this rough rude man 1 Do you know him 1 Louise. Yes, yes, rtiy child — he was once very kind to you. Eus. [ With broken accents.] Oh, yes, she knows I was always kind to you, and when I nursed you ECrSTACHE BAUDIX. 2d MdUe. Louise. Nursed me ! [Suprised. Eus. [ With burst of feeling.] Yes, my child, tossed you in my arms and pressed you to my heart Louise. Eustache ! JUus. What 1 [Looks at her.] Is slie not my child, my Louise. Yes, yes, but she has been taught Uus. To think not, speak not of, or know her father — ha ! am I not right 1 Louise. [Sinking.] Go, go, child — to the Countess, I will como to you anon. Mdlle. Louise. Do not be long, dear ma. [Louise puts her off^ Eustache looks. Eus. [Taking Louise hy the arm.] Louise ! [Li reproach. Louise. Heaven support me, for if I follow the dictates of my heart, I must sacrifice my child ; oh, I cannot provoke the heavy desolating curse now hovering o'er me ; oh, no — that I cannot do. Keep your reproaches till you know all, let her not hear, and let your temper liold ; from this hour must we forget each other, the sacred bond between us is for ever broken — a mother's cold unfeeling pride has raised a bar- rier impassable between us. The lips of holy men denunciate a curse upon the union they once did solemnly scanctify with blessings; oh, Eustache, to be obebient to my love, is to be the anathemized of hea- ven ; to yield lo my mother's heartless will — to be for ever a spirit- crushed and broken hearted woman ; I cannot sin against heaven, Eustache, I — I am no longer your wife 1 Eus. May [About to curse. Louise. Oh, stay, you yourself have borne the missive hither that separates us, and for ever. Eus. The missive — what 1 Lonise. My mother has sought the aunulment of our marriage— has succeeded, and that packet you but now delivered declares our union void and illegal. Eus. And our child a Louise. Ha ! — oh, brain ! [Sinks. Eus. Ha, ha, ha! does the law in tearing you from me give legiti- macy to our offspring 1 No, it takes not my blood from it — no, the father may condescend to claim his unlawfully begotten child — but the mother, what says she 1 [ With pride.] I'll have my child ! With proud determination. Louise. Would you kill me 1 — my mother, Eus. Are we not both widowed by her '? Our child by her made Louise. Hold' Eus. No ! — bastard ! Louise. Oh, Eustache ! Eus. The truth shall be spoken, though you shudder when you hear it. Adieu ! Louise. Stay, go not — I will brave all and fly with you. Eus. And my child. Louise. Oh, in your love of her, think of my mother's for me : 8bt will cars for her — make her — - AO EUSTACHE BADDIN, Eus. What 1 spurn you and contemn you — I'll have my child, be assured I'll apply to the authorities and return armed with power to assert my right. Go, lady, daughter of the Countess D'Alberte, teach my child to own hor father and I will then own you. [Exit, c. Louise. Eustache ! — yet what avails without his child 1 He is firm I yet my mother — oh, had I never known her, I had never pined or felt for her, as I now perforce must do. Enter Countess and Child, k. Court. Louise, where is the courier who so insulted your child 1 Louise. Gone ! Coun. Gone ! Why did you not detain him, Louise. Your daughter tells me he would have embraced her. Louise. He said he was a father, and her likeness to his own daughter Coun. His daughter resemble child of yours 1 Louise. Countess, I sicken here where all is pride and heartlessness give me my child and let me go with her a beggar hence. Coun. Are you mad 1 Louise. I am, and you have made me so. Enter Advocate Monsieur Dels aire. Delbaire. Countess, your servant. I am here according to your re- quest. Enter Lamberti, l, d. Lam. I have got rid of Delbois, at least for some time. [Aside ] My dear aunt Coun. George, you are here opportunely. You have brought the contract of marraige, Monsieur Delbaire 1 Delbaire. It is here Countess. Coun. And here the warrant that dissolves the previous disgraceful union. Louise. [Snatches it.] — Which here I rend, as a deed shameful to all who sought it ! Cotin. Daughter, would you have my curse 1 Enter Mademoiselle Louise. Louise. No! [Takes Madlle. liOmQ-R as she enters.] I would have iny child to render to her father. Coun. Her father 1 Lam. Cousin, he is dead. Louise. He lives ! Omnes. Lives ! Louise. And unknowingly brought himself that accursed missive ; he now claims his wife and child I Del. [Without] Help! help! Omnes Whit's that] KtlSTACHE BAODIX. 81 Det.bois 1'uns on in fear y c. Lam. \ Aside.] Delbois ! Del. »*!lave me from his hands ! Lcntise. Ha ! that is the assassin ! [A:} EusTACHE dashes past Servants, who arrived at c. in affright Lam. Ha ! Stay ! [As Eustache is rushing to Delbois. Eus. I have no words [Throws him aside.] but these ! [Holds forth his hands.] Come ! [Thi-ows him over by throat. Louise. Eustache ! Eus. [Standing with his foot vpon Delbois.] I live Mousicur Tra- veller, as you see; and I am here, lady, [To Countess,] to demand my child ! Tableau, END OF ACT II. ACT III. SCENE I. — Half the stage or more on the l. is taken up by the inter- rior of a small Lin, ivith door of entrance at the back — a stair leads off' to upper room extreme h.—a window looks onto stage towards B. — tables and cJmirs — distant country in heights seen over the roof of the inn, and path downwards — on the r. a small gate leading to a chapel, with a grave yard hounded by a low stone wall, so that the humble tombs appear — one stands by wall, on which is written "Eustache." — a path winds up r. between trees. Enter Marcel, down stairs, followed by Manou — he has his nightcap on, and is putting on his coat — they are quarrelling Marcel. Don't tell me, madame — I'm lord and master of this inn, and I'll sleep as long as I like ! Manou. You'll sleep 1 Marcel. Don't tell me ! Manou. I will tell you ! I'll always tell a fool what I think of him. Marcel. And I'll tell you what I "think of you and your conduct. Last night, didn't I catch you laughing at the customers 1 Manou. Would you have me cry at them 1 Marcel. I'll give up inn-keeping, and retire into private life. Manou. You may retire into what life you like, or retire from life altogether if you choose. Marcel. Of course ! to make room for Pomponneau. You want me in my grave, like that poor fellow your old master, Eustache, there. [Points. Manou. Poor fellow ! He was worthy of a wife. Marcel. Yes, and had a wife worthy of him. She never loved another. 3Ianou. I won't bear this— I will not ! You'll break my heart, I am sure you will. Wbat have I ever done to rouse such horribU jealousy 7 Marcel. [In passion.] Pomponneau! EUSTACHE BAUDIir. 83 PoMroxNKAtT, attired in officer's servant's travelling dress, enters at the wot d, with whip and portmanteau — staHs. Pompon. Odd — very — my name — my friends ! Mai'cel. [Turns and sees him.] Pamn me, if he isn't here too ! [Throws his nightcap down and sits in rage. Manou. {Sees him."] Ah ! Pompon. What ! Ha, ha, ha ! Upon my life, this is odd. Marcel. It's any thing but even. Pompon. Manou, and my old friend, Marcel ! [About to shake his hand. Marcel. Don't old friend me. What do you want here 1 Pompon. To wash the dust out of my throat. Marcel. Or to throw dust into my eyes, which 7 Pompon. Ha, ha, ha ! what ! as great an idiot as ever. Manou. What will you take 1 Marcel. Why himself out of this house, to be sure, come • [Approaches Pomponneau. Pompon. [Draws.] A-la-distance, if you please — I am here, a weary traveller, I require refreshment and I'll have it. Marcel. I know the refreshment you've come here for. [Aside. • Manou. Of course ! we keep a public inn, don't we 1 Marcel. Yes — but you belong to the private business. Pompon. I have walked in the dust from the road where the dili- gence set me down — am on my way to the new chateau of the Coun- tess D' Alberts. Marcel. Ah, don't tell me — you left her nephew's service three years ago. Pompon. Re-entered the army, and am now in the service of young captain. Count de Brissac who is in love with young Louise, and I suppose will wed her ; but come, I am tired, thirsty, and must have a bottle of your best wine. Manou. Well, you must have one, I suppose. [LooJcs at him. Pompon. Of course I must. Marcel. [Uncorks and gives him a bottle.] There, [Sulkily.] if you drink that it will physic you, or I'm no judge. Pompon. Your health 1 [To Marcel. Marcel. Oh! [Turns. Pompon. Manou, may your husband live to grow wiser. Marcel. I tell you what [Pomponneau having tasted some, spurU it out, some going upon Marcel who is aproaching.] the nasty wretch. Pompon. [ With a face.] Vinegar ! Manou. Why, you have given him one of the sour bottles. Marcel. He shouldn't come here souring my temper, I'd give him poison, if I had it. Manou. I really beg your pardon ; go and fetch one from the se- cond rack — go ! [Pushes him. Marcel. And leave you together ! not if I know it. Manou. Fool ! I'll go myself. [She exits ^ L. Pompon. [Kindly.] AVell Marcel, how do you find yourself 1 EUSTACHE BAUDIir. "3| Marcel Oh, don't soap me. Re-enter Manou, l. Manou. There's a beautiful drop of wine ! Marcel. Give it me— you are not going near him. [Places wine.] Now drink up and be off. Pompon. Ha, ha, ha ! is this the way he treats all his customers 1 Manou. Nearly. Marcel. Treat '? I don't treat anybody— I expect to be paid. Pompon. I certainly do not expect my wine for nothing, here . [Gives coin.] Keep the change, my man. Marcel. I'm no man of yours, I don't want your change, take it- five sous. Pompon. I won't take it, my man. Marcel. I'm no man ! Manou. No— that you are not ! Marcel. Take your change ! Pompon. I will not, my man. Marcel. Then out it goes. [The door being left open ly Pomponneao he throws it out and as Monsieur Poncelet, who has been seen cojk. ing down the path, enters it hits him. Pon. Oh ! oh ! Manou. You idiot. Marcel. I really beg your pardon. Pon. Not intentional, of course % Pompon. Well, I'll be off; how far to the chateau 1 Manou. About a quarter of a mile. Pompon. Adieu ! dear— which road 1 Marcel. Go straight out of the door, and follow your nose. Pompon. I shall call again ! [Exits as Marcel in a rage slams the door. Pon. Now my friends ^^ Manou. Eh % [Looks. Pon. Surely I am not mistaken, though years have passed. Manou. At Bonville, sir— Monsieur Poncelet 1 Pon. The same ; and you, little Mauou, married, I suppose 1 Manou. [Rather sadly.] Yes ! Pon. And this your husband 1 Manou. [In the same tone.] Yes ! Pon. Why so melancholy a tune 1 Manou. Dreadfully jealous ! Pon. Ha, ha, ha ! a little jealousy keeps up the spice of love. Marcel. Pepper ! Pon. Why 'tis Marcel. How do you do 7 Marcel. Well as I can— not exactly as I would. [ Glancing at Manou. Pon. Any family 1 Manou. No, Monsieur. And how do you do, sir 1 Pray what brings you so far from home 1 Pon I have been to the funeral of a sister, and am on my way to EUSTACHE UAUDIN. 84 the diligence. Tell me — you entered the service of Louise Baudin's mother 1 3[anou. And remained with her till very lately. 3Iarcel. So did I, from the time I retired from the army. Pon. Oh, I remember, you enlisted from jealousy. Did you retire with any honors — any mark of distinction 7 Marcel. Eh 1 Oh, yes — a shot in the centre of the back. Fo7i. Ha, ha, ha ! [Marcel looks.] But the Countess and Louise 1 Manou. They reside at a small chateau within half a mile of this. Pon. Indeed! Marcel. Oh, yes— she placed us in this inn as a reward for our faithful services. Manou. To get rid of your annoyance. Pon. And my poor friend Eustache— he returned to Bonville two years after she left, but as the mother had given me a false address, he could not trace them. The last I heard from him was that he had found service as a government courier. Manou. Alas, sir ! he is dead. You may see his grave from the window. [She throws it open.] See ! Po7i. [Looks.] " Eustache." And he lies there— of a broken heart, d-oubtless. Marcel. Something like it. Women are enough to break any man's heart [Exit l. up stairs. Manou. Silence ! [Stamps.] 'Tis quite a romance, sir. By the power of the Countess and her nephew their marriage was pronounced illegal, and strange to say, he brought them the document. There was a terrible scene— he discovered not only his wife, but in her cousin Lamberti and a companion, those who had attempted his des- truction; but a casket of jewels happening to lay at his ,feet, Lam- berti had him arrested upon a charge of stealing them. He was hur- ried to Paris, tried for that and contumacy of church and state, and condemned to imprisonment for life. Pon. But his wife, Louise— did she not stand forth in his defence! Manou. All that woman could do, she did ; but there was a power greater than her truthful love. Pon. And the grave you point to rae is his 1 Manou. On his journey to the fort where he was to be confined, he attempted, it appears, to escape his guard, and was shot near this and buried there. Madame Louise hearing of it, won upon her mo- ther to reside here, and had this tablet erected ; she daily visits it. Pon. May his wronged spirit rest in peace. [Bell heard. Manou. Hark ! 'tis the hour of her approach ; And see they come. [Music. Enter Louise, with two female Servants. She bids them leave her — ihey enter gate and exit. She kneels to tombstone. Louise. Eustache, I pay this daily tribute to thy grave in memory of truest, dearest, fondest love — my brother, friend, and husband. Power's cruel law has severed but not parted us, for you are ever with 5iie — your form in day before me — at night your shade I see as watch- EDSTACHE BAUDIN. 85 ing over me. Oh, look upon your wife — smile upon your child till we meet in happy union there. As she kneels with uplifted hands, Pastor having come down, raises his hands. Pastor. Daughter ! Louise. Father ! Pastor. My benison be on you. Come, the service waits. [They enter gate. Music. Pon. Poor faithful girl ! I must still call her so. And do the ser- vants and neighbors know 1 Manou. They think 'tis the erring son of an old faithful servant of the family. Pon. I will call upon her ; so get me refreshment. Manou. With pleasure. Music. They do so, while Poncelet places his hat and cloaJc, ^'c. Music is heard in chapel, as Eustache is seen to come dozen r. de- clivity. He has long heard and hair [not in extreme.] He is pale and careworn, has a staff, and leans upon it. Eus. My eye stretches its dim gaze towards Bonville — shall I ever reach 1 My strength fails — hunger fastens on me — a cold damp chill — [Music of chapel louder.] Ha ! the chapel service for the dead ! Could I reach its porch, that its tones might mingle with prayers for them — that the holy father might passing, give me blessing, and his ear receive my dying words. [He makes an effort, hut reaching the face of his gra,ve stone, falls exhausted. Pon. Wliat strange circles in time's wheels we trace in our life's onward way — sad realities that beggar the power of fiction. Enter Manou with tray, wine, ^x., l. 2 e. Manou. Here we are, sir — we have not much ready, but what there is Pon. More than plenty. Marcel. I'll draw the cork. Enter, from chapel, Paul Jardix and People who see 1S,ust ache. Paul. What's this neighbors 1 a dying way-worn man, he has yet life. [Feels his heart.] He breaths, moves Eus. This parching thirst — my utterance fails — oh, for one drop to moisten my fevered lips. Paul. Kun to the inn — do you assist me to raise him. [Some do so — Peasant runs and knocks at inn and enters. Peasant. Here's a poor dying man at the stranger's tomb. Pon. Ha ! [Runs to tvindow.] Bring him here, my friends. Paid, [to Eustache.] Look up my friend, you have traveled far. Eus. Yes, and also without food or rest. Paid. You shall have both in comfort now. Eus. I fear too late. [Bell tolls as they lead him in.] That sound is •ure ray knell. [^5 he is hoi'ne in — music] 86 EUSTACHE BAUDIK. Pon. Poor fellow — place him here. [They put hem in chair, he hoi dropped his head.] Quick, the wine. [Manou grici'S i7 — he places it to his lips, during which Pastor and Louise ai'e seen to enter from the chapel— all the rest are within he inn— Eu^tache drinks the wine eagerly. Pon. I fear for him. Eus. What renewed agony of life— -I had angel dreams, music around with thrilling notes of i)eace. [He again droops, Poncelet places wine to his lips. Pon. Give air. Louise. [ Who has again knelt at the to^nh.] Eustache, he ever neai me thy spirit hover round, Eus. I die — a priest Pon. Fly to the chapel, to the Pastor. [Louise has risen — Paul exits and sees Pastor. Paul. Worthy sir, a poor dying man is in the inn and needs your aid. Louise. Ha, father, let us in. [About to go. Pastor. My child, you have enough of woe — I'll go alone. Louise. Haste then I intreat, and here is that to help his need — adieu ! [Pastor is seen to enter. Pon. Good father, your aid, here is the holy man. Eus. [Looks up.] Father I would have your [Sees Poncelet. Pon. Great powers that face Eus. A moment, father — one word — you are Pon. Your friend, Poncelet, for you are Eus. Eustache Baudin. Manou. It is — it is ! Eus. Say tell me — where is she — does she live 1 Pon. She does. Eus. My child '\ Pon. Yes. Eus. [On his knees.] Bless you — bless you ! By this Lime Louise is upon path over roo/— Servants off. Louise. For you, Eustache and our child, my constant prayers and love. [Hands upraised. Delbois and Lamberti seen to come a little before on r. rise, looking on, in disguised attire — Tableau. Scene closed i7i slowly. SCENE II. — Neighborhood of the Inn on the road to the Chateau Enter Delbois, followed by Lamberti, r. Pel. Ha, ha, ha ! oh my sides, they'll burst, I know they will, ha, ha! Lam. What the deuce is the matter with you 1 Pel A woman erecting a tombstone, and snivelling ever it every day in the year, thinking her husband lies beneath, when he's alive and kicking in one of our strongest forts. Lam. Well, it is odd ! EUSTACHE BAUDIIT. 87 Del. Yes, and tolerably clever of you to persuade her to it ; how the devil did you contrive it 1 Lam. With the greatest case ; one of his fellow prisoners was shot near this on the way to their sentence : I was by chance in the neigh- borhood — claimed the privilege of seeing hiui buried, as one I had known, the son of a tenant in better times — it was granted; I said his real name was Eustache Baudin, and procured a certificate of burial in that name — sent it to the Countess and Louise, with a letter from the pastor who performed it^they swallowed all of course. I little thought they would come to reside here. Del. No, that's awkward, because the pastor Lam. The pastor is dead, my boy ; I am safe there. Del. It's a pity though you didn't stick to the old Countess. Lam. I did, till she would no longer stick to me ; she entrusted me with the management of her affairs, till I managed them nearly into my own hands, which she found out ; I made the most of what I could lay hold of, and bade her adieu one morning before she was awake. Del. But that's all gone, you are now as poor as Lam. A rat ! she has moved about since, but I have tracked my lady, and must hasten to the chateau. Del. Won't that be dangerous *? Lam. Fool ! Is not the young Chevalier de Brissac in love with little Louise and about to marry her. Del. Well— Avhat of that 1 Lam. Would he take the hand of one whose father toils as a felon 1 leave me alone, I have my plans, and now for the Chateau and the Countess. ' [Crosses l. Del. I can't go there, that woman knows me ; besides, I am dread- fully hungry and must eat, Lam. There ! [Gives monej/.] go to the inn by the chapel— no one will know you there. Del. This is barely enough for drink. What can I get to eat with this 1 you don't know the present depth of my digestive cavity. Lam. Take all and I'll starve ! [Throws purse. Del. [Aside.] I don't care who starves so long as I don't. Lam. Be prudent, wait till I join you — say nothing. Del. If they'll find me enough to eat I shan't want to talk. [.45 they go.] I say, if you get into a little difficulty, don't leave me with my inexperience in this strange place. [Lxii, Lambekti. l. Now that fellow, though a very old friend of mine, is a regular rogue in grain ; I'm bad enough myself, but I can't go so far as he, except when I'm hungry. Holloa ! here's a young Avoman, I was always fond of the girls, though somehow they never took much to me ; let's see what this one's made of. LJnter Manou, r. with a small hasJcet. Manov.-, Dear me, what a flurry I am in to be sure- -not an egg in the house to make the poor creature an omelette, so I ran to Madame Bimon's ; Louise too, what a surprise ! I can't think, and I must not stay thinking. 9$ EUSTACllE BAUDIN. Del. [Staying Iter .] How do you do, my little chicken 1 Manou. I'm no chicken, sir ! I'm a married woman, and if yon don't let me go on mv way, you may find yourself /le/t-pecked. Del As witty as i)retty. Now you see my dear [Staying her Manou. Are you a man, sir 1 Del. Well, 1 was born a boy, and have grown to what you see. 3Ianou. A ruffian ! Del. You shall pay for that. [Seizes her. Manou. Let me go. Del. Your passport is a kiss. [He Jcisses her — she screams. Enter Pomponneau, r. with a whip in hand — he throws him round and strikes him with his hand. Pompon. Brute ! Del. I'll take blow from no man ! [Feeling for knife. Pompon. Take this into the bargain ! [Ijashes him. Del. Oh, oh! I'll — You have been indulging in a most expensive luxury. [Runs off. Pompon. Why 'tis Manou ! Manou. Oh, Pomponeau ! what should I have done if it hadn't been for you. I can but thank you. [Gives her hand. Enter Marcel, his hair on end, r. Marcel. Pomponneau ! I thought you ran to Mother Simons for more than eggs. Manou. [To him.] Fool! Marcel. [To Pomponneau.] Yillian ! Pompon. [Cooly.] Gnat! Manou. You stupid ! Hear me sir ! I have been attacked. Marcel. How dare you attack my wife % Manou. I've been rudely kissed. Marcel. How dare you kiss my wife rudely v Pompon. My good fellow, there is something the matter with your 3Iarcel. I know it — I feel 'em growing 1 Manou. I was attacked by a ruffian, from whom he saved me. Come along ! 3Iarcel. No, madam — I'll never come along with you again ! Manou. Then stay where a^ou are ! 3Iarcel. Adieu for ever ! [ Crosses. Pompon. Where are you going 1 3Iarcel. Into my grave, and let me catch her weeping over it. JIanou. That you never will ! [Exit, l. Pompon. Ha, ha, ha ! Adieu fuswig. [Exit, l. Marcel. I don't think she would weep over my grave, and curse me if I'll try her ; and you, [After Pompoxeau.] if I was but a safe shot, would'nt I challenge you. Ah, he went the way she went — see turns down by yonder wall — he turns the same way — I can't see 'em. Oh, it's a lucky thing I have no family to look upon their agonized father. Bushes off, L. EUSTACUK BADEl^Jf. 8> SCENE III.— r/i(? Chateau of the Countess. The ground apartment looking onto the gardens, S;c. — Entrance in c. — Folding doors, r. — smaller door, l. Tables — one r. u. -e., with books and writing onateri^ als. Chairs — sofa, r.— a mirror. Mdlle Louise discovered looking upon a miniature in her hand. Mdlle. Louise. His portrait — his ! So proud, so noble, so like tluj Chevalier's, of whom I have read performing deeds of valor and of good to all. My mother sayjifciat she fears his love is beyond my state or hope: my grandma tells me different — says that I might grace th(3 salons of the palace, and truel}' I think I might. [Looks in mirror, as Chevalier de Brissac enters l., and lightly places his hand iipon \er shoulder.] Oh, dear! [Turns and sees him.] Henri ! Bris. My dearest Louise! Mdlle. Louise. Oh, fie ! to enter thus — unannounced. Bris. I knew not sweetest, that you were here, and as for announce- ment, I really had not patience to seek for any. Madlle. Louise. But tell me, I pray you, all the news. Your sister is well, your father — and how is that dear Paris, that I so much love. Bris. As gay and frivolous as ever ; but I bring news that I hope will give you joy as it does me — unspeakable. I have informed my father of our attachment. Mdlle. Louise. Ah ! and he Bris. At first was angry, as all fathers according to paternal law are, at his son's presuming to love any lady of his own choosing. Mdlle. Louise. I feared this — and will he part us 1 Bris. Listen. I showed him this — your miniature : that began to melt him, painted to him your gifts, accomplishments — told him that you were the granddaughter and heiress of the Countess D'Alberte — when what think you he said '? Mdlle. Louise. I am impatient to know. Bris. That he Avas journeying this way upon a court missive, and would judge for himself, and if he found what I represented to be true, his consent should be given. As it is quite certain that he will find it true, why Ave may consider all settled. Mdlle. Louise. Oh, Henri ! you make me weep with joy. Bris. Here is your mother, dearest, and the Countess. Enter Countess and Louise, r. Bris. Countess— Madame— I kiss your hands, and joy to meet 3-011. Coun. Welcome, Chevalier, to our poor home. Bris. Oh, say not so — rich I am sure in love, and in domestic peace. [Louise droops.] I admire your new residence much — so removed from the din of the busy blustering world, and all its pride, Avith dis- appointed hopes. Are you not of my opinion, madame 1 [To Louise Louise. Yes, indeed ! hopes are but the small threads by Avhich Ave are draAvn through this Aveary life, till one by one they break, leaving the mind and heart despairing. Coun. Daughter ! Mdlle. Louise. My dear mother, do not let, I praf , this constant 40 EUSTACHE BAUDIH. melancholy oppress you — where young hearts too are hoping to bud and blow in joy. Bris. Aye, madame, and hope to flourish too. Court. I hear a carriage in the avenue. Louise. We expect no visitor. [Aside.] Heaven preserve us from intrusion here ! Enter Pomponneau, l. Pompon. I beg your pardon, Chevalier, but your father the Duke de Brissac. % Bris. My father — so soon. [Aside. Pompon. The duke is here ! Enter Duke de Brissac, l. d. Duke. Oh, here you are sir, all snugly ensconced in love's arbor, I find. [Ladies how. Bris. Your pardon, the Countess D'Alberte — Madame Louise, her daughter — Mademoiselle Louise. Duke. Your daughter, madame, I can see. [To Louise.] I do not know what portion of her worthy sire's features are interlined— her striking likeness to her mother, leaves little room for other resem- blance ; it may be she bears his carriage, for she has a proud deter- mined look and noble glance of eye, bespeaking him no common man. In the army ? Louise. [Timidly.] In his youth. Duke. Quitting that for the Court, perhaps, better suiting his de- votion to you. Louise. He was devoted. [ Weeps. Duke. I see — remembrance of departed worth, [Tb Countess. Mdlle Louise. Mother — dear mother. Coun. She will betray us. [Aside.] Monsieur le Duke, if you wiH accompany me to the salon Duke. With pleasure, I came for the purpose of some conversation with you, lady, as it does not become us to let love run riot, for beinoj blind, the urchin is apt to lose himself and require a guide; Countess, your hand. Madame. [Bows to Louise. Mdlle. Louise. My dear madame. Louise. Go, go — my child ! I will join you presently. [They exit "r., folding door. Louise. 'Tis too much ! there is now base deceit to be played upon this man, or my child is wretched. Oh, that I were there in that lowly grave with him at peace. I will have no hand in this. Oh, fool have I been, to yield to a mother's, prayers and rear my child in a base lie ! Enter George, l. 3 e. George. A gentleman, madame — Monsieur Poncelct. Louise. Ha ! Poncelet, my best, my only friend ! Admit hira. Lucky visit at such a time, for he may counsel me. Enter Poncelet, l. Monsieur, my best, my dearest friend — oh, how I joy to see you ! EDSTACHE BAUDIIT: 4l Pon. Lady Louise. No, no — call me, I pi ay y^u, as you did when I was your neighbor's wife. Pon. What still thus in remembrance 1 Louise. To my grave, sir — till I lie there with him. Pon. I have heard, Louise — for I Avill call you as I did — whai proof have you of Eustache's death 1 Louise. His dying words to the priest, and a certificate of his fu- neral. Pon. [Aside.] Strange ! The work of a cunning hand. 'Tis a foul and lying cheat upon your suffering weakness. Louise. Ha! Pon. He lies not in the grave upon which you daily pray. Louise. Oh, deceive me not, nor snatch from me the little hope I have. Pon. I would strengthen hope ; nay, change that hope to certainty. Your Eustache lives ! Louise. Lives ! Oh, where 1 EuSTAcnE appearing, l. Eas. Here ! — l)e is before you ! Is here, Louise, to thank, to bless you for your constant faith ! Louise. Ah ! [She essays to speak, and reach him, hut falls — he runs to her. Pon. Imprudent ! Uus. I hold her once again — again do I press to mine this heart of truest tested faith — that through years of tempting affluence has not forgotten him whose only sin was love to her. [As she moves.] Louise! Louise. Eustache ! Yes, yes — he lives again for me ! The world ! oh, how have I been cheated — fooled — but you are here, and now we part no more. Uus. We must, alas ! for am not I a branded man '^ Louise. It is the brand of suffering, of persecution, and not of crime. We part no more ! Uus. We must — for who will now look upon or own me 1 Louise. If so thou hast more need of my love. Fus. Our child Louise. Ha ! [Siairts. Enter Mdlle Louise, r. MdUe Louise. My dear mother, how feel you now 1 The duke has sent me to inquire if you have strength to join us 1 Sir — [Seeing and and curtseying to Poncelet, then observes Eustache.] What wants this man 1 I saw him from the window of the salon, and pitying hig wretchedness, was just seeking a messenger to take him some relief. [Aside in half-tone to Louise. Louise. You — you I Eus. [Approaching her.] Do not be alarmed at me my child. Mdlle Louise. [ With pride.] Your child 1 Eui. Excuse me, young lady— I— a careless phrase will sometimes 42 EDSTACnE BAUDIK. escape the lips, and though very humble, I had once a child much resembling you. Mdlle Louise. Resembling me indeed ! [ With pleasant derision. Ens. Not so beautiful, young lady, of course. Mdlle Louise. But still your child, and a father's child. Eus. Ah ! true — is all to him, and strange as it may appear though that child wore but a plain homely woolen petticoat it was a little princess in my eye, I loved it, I not only loved but worshipped it, and the little darling loved me too, and like a bird would com© to my chirp, leap to my knee — my neck — twine its fingers in my hair — but that is gone long since and she is [Faltering. Mdlle Louise. [Melted.] Where 1 Eus. I have not seen her for many years, she'd not know her father now. 3fdlle. Louise. Hard fate indeed, the child to forget her parent. Eus. [Quickly.] You have not then forgotten yours, lady 1 Mdlle. Louise. My father died early, ere I could distinctly remem- ber, but I often weep in silence for him, and pray that he had lived. Eus. You do'? 3{dll€. Louise. Yes, for my grandma, the Countess ever avoids all mention of him, while my mother seems to fear to name him, I used much to wonder why — but now Eus. You know the cause, Mdlle. Louise. Oh, no ! but I fear the marriage was unhappy. Eus Oh no, it was most happy ! [Forgetting. Mdlle^ Louise. You knew my father 1 Louise. Ha ! [Aside. Eus. No, no, I dreamed you spoke of my own marraige, which was most happy till Mdlle. Louise. If happy, how came your daughter a stranger to youl Eus. I was borne away by the call of the State Mdlle. Louise. I see, the army — you arc now I hope seeking her 1 Eus. Seeking her ! Mdlle. Louise. Do not be offended, here is a purse, 'tis of my own embroidery, and has some trifling contents — when you meet give her this, as a present from one who still more unfortunate than she can never know a father. Eus. Lady, I will take the precious gift and treasure it for her, my child's sake. She is of your age, and, as far as a poor man's offspring can resemble those of the rich, your beauty too— she may have your rirtues — your goodness — I trust your — oh ! pardon mc, I shall again begin to think I look upon my own. Pon. My friend Eus. Excuse me sir, but there are chords within the human heart never struck till we look upon our own. [Weejps — pause.] Lady — I thank — I bless, and will ever pray for you- [Takes purs:, Mdlle. Louise. Dear mother, I beg you to come with me, we shall have Henri seeking us. Louise. Go, I will come to you anon ! Mdlle. Lomse. Adieu, monsieur [To Poxcelet.] and you my good EU6TACHE BAUDIN. •• man, farewell, and when you see your daughter, think of me. [Exits, c. Louise. What is to be done 1 aid— council me ! the Duke de Bris- sac and his son are nere, she loves the Chevalier devotedly, he pro- poses for her hand— should the truth be known, her bridal will bo broken off, and she will be the sufferer. Yet, if it is your will, III go to them, all shall be known, and we will fly together. Hus. Stay ! Louise, our child can have no sudden second nature — to cast off high thoughts, love, habit, fortune, in an hour— to quit all these for me— it is too late ! Enough for us, that she may hereafter learn our hapless lot, and drop the tear upon our memory ! Fon. Hard fate but still the wisest. Louise. But Fus. No, Louise, I cannot consent to crush her hopes— to tear her from rank, and plunge her in penury and disgrace— 'twould only add to our load of misery. Louise. You must not go from hence, there is much to do. Enter I pray you, that room — 'tis mine. Eus. Remember you betray not yourself— keep our secret from Louise. ^ , , , , Louise. I will fulfil my duty, and obey you as I used, husband. Uus. Louise ! Louise. Enter Eustache. Go, go ! Exit Louise, Poncelet, and Eustache small door r., as Lambreti and Servant enter, l. 2 e. Lam. Say to the Co'untess a gentleman from Paris, whom she will recognize when she sees. [Servant hows and exit, n. n. Lam. Just in the nick of time to suit my purpose. This Duke de Brissac prides himself upon his escutcheon ; I'll show hmi the bar sinister in the Countess's, unless the old fool should make thmgs comfortable. Enter Servant and Countess, r. d. Servant. This is the gentleman. [Exit, l. Coun. Lamberti! Lam. Yes, dear annt, Coun. Audacious ! Depart, or I denounce you ! [About to ring. Lam. Stay, good gentle aunt. Coun. [Still about to ring.] Ingrate ! I have friends here. Lam. Call them— or shall I '? I can tell them the cheat you d play upon them. The proud Duke de Brissac will open wide his eyes to see the young lady's pedigree. Coun. You will not. , -r -i, , j ^v. Lam. If your first promise to me be not fulfilled, I will lead them to the grave of Eustache, the felon, and name the father of the bride with which you'd honor them. Coun. Has all my trust in thee but come to this 1 Lam. Hear me. Here is a legal document prepared, making me heir to ftU the available property and land in your power to will— 44 FCSTACHE BAUDIW. iign it, or I hasten to the salon and denounce you, Countess, as a cheat and an impostor ! Coun. Are you made of hate 1 Lam. I am. Sign — come ! {Drags her to table, placing pen and papers hcfore her.] By hell you shall ! {Draws dagger. EuSTAcuE enters and rushes "between them, seizing his dagger. Eus. By heaven, she shall not! [Chord. Lam, {StaHs.] Eustache ! Coun. Ha ! He {Exit, b Lam. Felon ! Eus. Liar! Lam. Those papefs ! {Runs vp. Eus. Stretch forth hand or finger towards them, and your own weapon is your death 1 {Stands before him.] I am desperate, for in you do I behold my demon — by you, do I look through years of mis- ery and blighted hopes ! The blasts of winter have failed to cool my fevered brain — the spring sun has brought no warmth to my heart — summer given me nor fruit nor flowers ; and ripening autumn proved but desolation. All this has been your work — yours — and you shall now confess it, or Avith life I never quit you ! Jyam. Fool I madman ! That paper ! Eus. Never! {They struggle. Enter, Servants, Duke, Chevalier, Countess, Mademoiselle Louise, and Louise, r. Lam. Seize that assassin ! let him not escape. {He has secured the paper on which he began to write, having dashed the ink over the previous memoranda.] Louise. No, no ! [Eustache /oZc^s his arms with the dignity of conscious innocence. Duke. What means this ! explain sir. Lam. Yes, Duke — I was here in pity to you, and to your son. Duke. To me — my son 1 Lam. To save you from a deeply planned imposture. Lam. Yes, that lady here.Louise, is the daughter of Eustache Bau- din, the condemned, who stands before you, and who but now upon my threat of exposure attempted my life. Duke. Eustache Baudin 1 the former courier to my friend the Minister de la Vigne. Eus. The same. Mdlle. Louise. Mother, mother, th's cannot be my father. Duke. You were condemned for theft and contumacy of Church and State. Eus. Yes. Louise. Oh, heaven! Mdlle. Louise. Mother, mother I \ Aside. ECaxACIlE BAUDIN. 4fi Duke. This is most strange. De la Vigne, convinced by every in- jniry of your innocence, never ceased to make his representation for A remission of your punishment ; you were released but a month since. Eus. I was 1 Duke. And he anxiously looks for your appearance now in Paris, the edict against your Carriage is reversed — it is declared legal and valid, and the Court's former judgement an error obtained by false evidence, produced by perjury and malice. Louise. Oh, Duke ! can this be true 1 Duke. I saw the document in his hand, signed by the archbishop and emperor. Eus. I gasp to fetch in power of breath or speech — my wife — my child ! Oil, this is too much happiness ! Enter Delbois, with Pastor, c. Lam. Delbois, summon the authorities to arrest my attempted as- sassin, there. Del. Here they are. [GENn'ARMEs/orm a^ 6rtc^•.] I am in their cus- tody myself. [Points to Pastor.] I have confessed all my sins to this gentleman, and have brought him here that jou may confess yours. /yam. Fool ! [ Going. Pastor. Stay, sir ! I do attach you upon this man's change and confession. Here, perform your duty. [Gend'armes surround him. Eus. Adieu, Monsieur ! Reserve your courage for the galleys. Duke. Countess, knowing your history before I arrived, I pardon the deception you would have practised. Behold here the effects of pride. I will not suffer mine to blight the happiness of the son I love, Eus. Madam, you have received the noblest rebuke, therefore I •vill not reproach you. Coun. You will not reproach me, sir. Will you forgive 1 Eus. Yes, madam, forgiveness of injury is the noblest of hcaven'i attributes ; it is the triumph of the oppressed over the oppressor. Dramatic virtue now has played her part. Humbled the broud, [pointing to Countess,] made glad the weary heart. [Placing his hand on his own breast.] Rewarded constancy ; [taking his wife's hand ;] here good example shown ; [taking his daughters hand ;} Vice punished by an instrument of Vice's own. Still we are but involuntary agents all. And act and speak but at the poet's call. Not so with you, free to condemn or praise. To lengthen or make short our drama's days. Then, as you'r great, be merciful. Ask we in vain. Once more your grateful debtc rs to remain 1 Let poor Eustache for all his troubles past, Find here a shelter and a home at last. THE END. SKND FOR A NEW DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE. {Catalogue continued from, second page of cover.) VOL. XLI. 321 The pirates Legacy 322 The Charcoal Burner 323 Adelgitha 824 Sen or Valiente 825 Forest Rose 826 Duke s Daughter 327 Camilla's Husband 328 Pure Gold VOL. XLII. 329 Ticket of Leave Man 330 Fool's Revenge 331 O'Neilthe Great 332 Handy Andy 333 Pirate of the Isles 334 Fanchon 335 Little Barefoot 336 Wild Irish Girl VOL. XLIII. 337 Pearl of Savoy 333 Dead Heart 339 Ten Nights in a Bar-room 840 Dumb Boy of Manchester 341 Belphegor the Mountebank 842 Cricket on the Hearth 343 Printer's Devil Q44 Meg s Diversion as. THE GREAT SECRET OF SHADOW PANTOMIMES ; or. Harlequin in the Shades. How to get them up and how to act them. With full and concise instructions, and numerous Illus- trations. By Tony Dknier. Price 26 PARIiOR TABLEAUX : or, Animated Pic- tures, for the use of Families, Schools, and Public Exhibitions. By Tony Denikr. Price 25 AMATEUR'S GUIDE TO HOME THE- ATRICALS. How to get them up, and how to act in them; to which is added, "How to get up Theatricals in a Country House," with By-Laws, selected Scenes, Plays, and everything useful for the information of amateur societies. Price 25 THE GUIDE TO THE STAGE, by Lkmaw Thomas Rede. Containing clear and full direc- tions for obtaining Theatrical Engagements, with complete and valuable instructions for beginners, relative to salaries, rules, manner of going through Rehearsals, securing proper Dresses, conduct at a first appearance, &c., &o. Price 15 THE ART OP ACTING; or, Guide to the Stage. In which the Dramatic Passions are de- fined, analyzed, and made easy of acquirement; also the requisites necessary for performers of both sexes, heroes, gentlemen, lovers, tradesmen, clowns, heroines, fine ladies, hojiens, characters of middle and old age, etc. Price 15 VOL. XLIV. 345 Dmnkard'8 Doom 346 Chimney Corner 347 Fifteen Years of a Dnrnk- 348 No Thoroughfare fard's 349 Peep O' Day I Life 3oO Kverybody's Priena Hamlet, in Three Act* Guttle & Gulpit ft.. MASSEYS EXHIBITION RECITER AND DRAWING-ROOM ENTER- TAINMENTS. Being choice Recitations in prose and verse. Together with an unique collec- tion of Petite Comedies, Dramas and Faroes, adapted for the use of Schools and Families. Two numbers per number, SO The two numbers, bound in cloth, School style — 76 THE OLIO; or Speaker's Companion. A col- lection of Recitations in Prose and Verse, Dia- logues and Burlesques, compiled for the use of Schools, Thespian Societies, etc., and for Public Deciamaiion or Reading. In three parts. . .each, 1 3 DRAMAS FOR THE DRAWING- ROOM. By Miss Keating. Two parU, each, 4U PLAYS FOR THE PARLOR. By Miss Keating. Two parts eacb, 40 ACTING CHARADES. By Miss Picker- i.vG 40 COMIC DRAMAS, forCollege, Camp, or Cabin (Male Characters only), four parts each, 40 DRAMAS FOR BOYS (Male Characters only), by Miss Keating \.40 HOME PLAYS FOR LADIES (Female Characters only) , comi^ete in tbree parts each, 40 AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT, an original Comedy, a Burlesque and Farce 40 THE ETHIOPIAN (NEW SERIES.) D RAMA wo. 1 Blinks and Jinks 2 Lucky Number 9 Somebody' s Coat 4 Trip to P aris 5 Arrival of Dickens 6 Black Ole Bull 7 Blackest Tragedy of All HO. 1 Robert Make- Airs 2 Box and Cox 3 Mazeppa 4 United States Mail 5 The Coopers 6 Old Dad 8 Cabin 7 The Rival Lovers 8 The Sham Doctor 9 Jolly Millers 10 ViHiklns and his Dinah 11 The Quack Doctor 12 The Mystic Spell 13 The Black Statue 14 Uncle Jefif 15 The Mischievous Nigger . 16 The Black Shoemaker 8 Tom and Jerry, and Who's been Here 9 No Tator, or Man Fish 10 Who Stole the Chickens 11 Upper Ten Thousand 12 aip Van Winkle 13 Ten Days m the Tombs 14 Two Pompeys 13 Running the Blockade 16 Jeemes the Poet 17 Intelligence Office 13 Echo Band NO. 19 Deserters 20 Deaf as a Post 21 Dead Alive 22 Cousin Joe's "^bit 23 Boarding School 24 Academy of Stars 17 The Magic Penny 18 The Wreck | ny Cnpids 19 Oh Hush! orTheVirgin- 20 The Portrait Painter 21 The Hop of Fashion 22 Bone Squash 23 The Virginia Mummy 21 Thieves at the Mill 2i Comedy of Errors 2t LesMiserables 27 New Yerir's Calls 2i Troublesome Servant 281 Great Arrival 30 Rooms to Let 31 Black Crook Burlesque 32 Ticket Taker no. 33 Hypochondriac 34 William Tell 35 Rose Dale 36 Feast 37 Fenian Spy 38 Jack's the Lad 89 Othello 40 Camille 41 Nobody's Son 42 Sports on a Lark 43 Actor Eld Singer 44 Shylock 45 Quarrelsome Servants 46 Haunted Kouse 47 No Cure, No7ay NO, 48 Fighting for the Union 49 Hamlet the Dainty 50 Corsican Twins 51 Deaf— in a Horn 52 Challenge Dance 53 De Trouble begins at Nin0 54 Scenes at Gurney's 55 16,000 Years Ago .56 Stage-struck Darkey 57 Black Mail iClothee 58 Highest Price for Old 59 Howls from the Owl Train 60 Old Hunks 61 The Three Black Smiths 62 Turkeys in Seasou Tony Denier's Parlor Pantomimes.— In Ten Parts, 25 Cts. each. No. v.— The Vivandiere ; or, The Daughter of the Regiment. Dame Trot and her Comical Cat; or, The Misfortunes of Johnny Greene. No. VI.— GODENSKI ; or, The Skaters of Wilnau. The E.vchanted Horn ; or. The Witches' Gift. No. VII.— The Soldier for Love ; or, A Hero in Spite of Himself. Simeon's Mishaps; or, The Hungarian Rendezvous. No. VIII.— The Village Ghost; or. Love and Murder both Found Out. The Fairies' Frolic; or. The Good Wife s Three Wishes. No. IX.— The Rose or Sharon ; or, The Unlucky Fisherman. Povgo, the Intelligent Ape, and the Unfortunate Overseer. No. X.— Mons. TouPET THE Dancing Barber ; or, Love and Lather. Vol au Vent and the Millers ; or, A Night's Adventures No. I.— A Memoir of the A>17thor. By Sylvester Bleeker, Esq. How to Express the Various Passions, Actions, etc. The Pour Lovers ; or, Les Rivales' Rendezvous. THE Frisky COBBLER ; or, The Rival Artisans. No. n.— The Rise and Proorhss of Pantc- mime. The Schoolmastkr ; or the School in an Uproar. Belle of Madrid; or, a Muleteer's Bride. La Statue Blanche ; cr. The Lovers' Stratagem. No. III.— M. DechalumeaiT ; or, The Birthday Fete. The Demon Lover ; or. The Frightened Family. Robert Macaire ; or, LesDeuxFugitifs. No. rv.— Jocko the Brazilian Ape; or, The MlschieToDs Monkey. The Conscript ; or. How to Avoid the Draft. Thf Magic Flute ; or. The Ma- Kloian's Speli. Samuel French, PubUsher, Anyoftheabovesentby Mail or Express, on receipt of price. 122 Xassau Street (Up SlAias). New and Explicit Pesckii'Tivk Catalooue Mailed Free on Reoukst. If ew Play«.~Pl*ylng ^t** Fire-Fhw tn the Web-Glin G*th-Uo«» He Lot« Me ! FRENCH'S MINOR DRAMA. Price 16 Cents each.— Botind Voltunes $1. 26. VOL, I. 1 The Iriih Attorney a Boot* at the Sw*n 8 Bow to p»y the Ben* i The' Loan of a Lorer 6 Tb* Dead Shot 6 BU Last Legs T The Invf «lble Prince 8 The Ooldeu Farmer VOL. II. 9 Pride of the Market 10 Used Up 11 The Irish Tutor 12 The Barrack Room 15 Luke the Laborer li Beauty aud the Beast 16 St. Patrick' 8 Ere 16 Ctptain of the Watch VOL. III. 17 The Secret [pers 18 White Horse of the Pep- 19 The Jacohiie 20 The Bottle 21 Box and Cox 22 Bamboozling as Widow's Victim 3i Bohert Macaire VOL, IV. 35 Secret Serrio* i% Omnibus 27 Irish Lion 28 liald of Croiss/ 29 The Old Guard 80 Raising the Wind 81 Slasher and Crasher Sa Naral KngagemeaU VO:.. V. 83 Oooknies in California Si Who Speaks First 35 Bomoastes Pnrioso 36 Uacbetb Travestie S7 Irish Ambassador 88 Delicate Ground 89 The Weathercock [Gold 40 AU that Glitters is Not VOL. VI. 41 Grimshaw, Bagshaw and Bradshaw ia Bough Diamond 48 filoomer Costume 44 Two Bonnyoastles 45 Born to Good Luck VOL. I. 71 Ireland and America 74 Pretty Piece of Business 75 Irish Broom-maker 76 To Parla and Back for Five Pounds 77 That Blessed Baby 78 Our Gal 79 Swiss Cottage 80 Young Widow VOL. XI. 81 O'Flannigan and the Fa. 82 Irish Post [rir 83 My Neighbor's Wife 84 Irish Tiger 85 P . P . , or Man and Tiger 86 To Oblige Benson 87 State Secrets • 88 Irish Yankee VOL. XII. 89 A Good Fellow 90 Cherry and Fair Stsi 91 Gale Breezely 92 Our Jemimy 93 Miller ,j Maid 94 Awkward Arrival 95 Crossing the Line 96 Conjugal Lesson VOL. XIII. 97 My Wife's Mirror 98 Life in New York 99 Middy Ashore 100 Crown Prince 101 Two Queens 102,Thumping Legacy lOS'.Unfinished GentlemaB 104 House Dog VOL. XIV. 105 The Demon Lover 106 Matrimony 107 In and Out of Place 108 I Dine with My Mother 109 Hiawatha 110 Andy Blake lU Love in "76 [ties 112 Bomance under Dlfficol' VOL. XV. US One Coat for 2 Suits 114 A Decided Case 115 Daughter [nority 116 No ; or, the Glorious Mi- Ill7 Coroner's Inquisition VOL. XIX. 145 Columbus 146 Harlequin Bluebeard 147 Ladies at Home 148 Phenomenon in a Smook VOL. XXVIIl. 117 Crinoline 218 A Family Failing 219 Adopted Child SSO Turned Heads 221 ^i Match in the Dark 222 Advice to Husbuidr 223 Siamese Twins 224 Sent to the Tower VOL. XXIX 225 Somebody Else 226 Ladles' Battle i2'27 Art (if Acting Frock 149 Comedy and Tragedy 150 Opposite Neighbors 151 Dutchman's Ghost 162 f ersecuted Dutchman VOL. XX, 153 Mnsard Ball 154 Great Tragic Revival liD High Low Jack & Gamei 156 A Gentleman from Ire- 157 Tom and Jerry [land' 158 Village Lawyer 1J9 Captain's not A-mlss •■*'}'*'. „ 180 Amateurs and Actors |23a Fighting by Proxy VOL. XXI. i VOL. XXX. 161 Promotion [ual 2!^' ^'~ -• — ■ ~i - 162 A Fascinating Individ-,-'' 163 Mrs. Caudle ■ * 164 Shokspeare's Dream 'i- ",'"'" 165 Nep.uue' 8 Defeat 231 -My Son Diana i»ion 166 Lady of Bedchamber 238 Unwarrantable In tro- 167 Take Care of Littli 233 Mr. and Mrs. White 168 Irish Widow I Charley (240 A Quiet FamUy the LloBS 'Man s Ghost lay at that 46 Kiss In the Dark [Jurer 47 'T would Pnzzl'' > Con- 48 Kill or Cnre VOL. VII. 49 Box and Cox Married and 60 St. Cupid 61 Go-to-bed Tom 62 The Lawyers 6 3 Jack Sheppard 64 The Toodles 66 The Mobcap 66 Ladies Beware VOL. VIII. 67MoriiiugCall 58 Popping the Question 69 Dear as a Post 60 New Footman 61 Pleasant Neighbor 62 Paddy the Piper 63 Brian O' Linn 64 Irish Assurance VOL. IX. 65 Temptation 66 Paddy Carey 67 Two Gregories 68 King Charming 69 Pocahontas 70Clookmaker'8Hat Tl Married Rake 72 Love and Msrder VOL. XXXVII. SM All the WorW« a SUge 190 Qawh. or Nigier PraetlM Ml Torn Him Out 39S Prett J Girli of 8tillb«rf S9S Angelof the Attie t94 CirrunuttDceiklterCuM t96 K»ity O'Sheal 196 A Supper in Dili* 118 Love in Humble Life 119 Family Jars 130 Personation VOL. XVL 121 Children in the Wood I Settled 122 Winning a Husband 123 Day after the Fair 124 Make Your WiUs 126 Rendezvous 126 My Wife 8 Husband 127 Monsieur Tonson 128 Illustrious Stranger VOL. XVII VOL. XXII. 169 Yankee Peddlar 170 Hiram Hireont 171 Double-Bedded Room 172 The Drama Defended 173 Vermont Wool Dealer 174 Ebenezer Venture [ter 175 Principles from Charac- 176 Lady of the Lake (Trar) VOL. XXIII. 177 Med Dogs 178 Barney the Baron 179 Swiss Swains 180 Bachelor's Bedroom 181 A Roland for an Oliver 132 More Blunder* than One 183 Dumb Belle 184 Limerick Boy VOL. XXIV. 185 Nature and Philosophy 186 Teddy the Tiler 187 Spectre Bridgroom 183 Matteo Falcone 189 Jenay Llnd 190 Two Buzzarda 191 Happy Man 132 Betsy Baker VOL. XXV. 19S No. 1 Round the Corner 194 Teddy Roe 195 Object of Interest 196 My Fellow Clerk 197 Bengal Tiger 193 Laughing Hyena 199 The Victor Vanquished 200 Our Wife VOL. XXVI. 201 My Hufband'e Mirror 129 Mischief-Making [Minesi202 Yankee Land. 130 A Live Woman in the 131 The Corsair 132 Shylock 133 Spoiled Child 134 Evil Eye 135 Nothing to Nurse 136 Wanted a widow VOL. XVIIL 137 Lottery Ticket 188 Fortune's Frolic 1139 Is he Jealous r 140 Married ±sachelor 141 Husliand at Sight 142 irishman in London 143 Animal MagneUsm 144 Highways and By-Waj's I VOL. XXXVIII. 397 lei on Parle Frincaii 298 Who KiDed Cock RoMb 399 DeclaTBlioD of iDdepeadraM SCO Headi er Taili SOI ObatinateFuoaily tOJUjAoDt SOI That Baaeal Pal 1304 Poo Padd; de Baxu 203 Norah Creina 204 Good for Nothing 205 The First Night 206 The Eton Boy 207 Wandering Minstrel 208 Wanted, 1000 Milliners VOL. XXVII. 30S< Poor Pilcoddy 210 The Mummy i Glasses VOL. XXXI. 241 Cool as Cncnmber 242 Sudden Thoughts 243JumV- '•— 244 A Bi: 245Litt. 246AL.n PaM 247 Maid witn tn« jsiUklng 248 Perplexing Predici^aent VOL. XXXII. 249 Dr. Dilworth 250 Out to Nurse 251 A Lucky Hit 252 The Dowager 253 Metamora (Burlesque) 254 Dreams of Delualoa 255 The Shak er Leven 256 Ticklish Times VOL. XXXIII. 257 JO Minutes with a Tiger 258Mlralda: or, the Juatio* ' of Tacon 259 A Soldier's Courtship 260 Servants by Legacy 261 Dying for Love 262 Alarming Sacrifice 263 Valet de Sham 264 Nicholas Niokleby VOL. XXXIV. 265 The Last of the Piglalli 266 King Rene'd Daughter 267 The Grotto Nymph 268 A DeviUsh Good Joke 269 A Twice Told Tale 270 Pasde Fascination 271 Revolutionary Soldier 272 A Man Without a Head VOL. XXXV. 273 The Olio, Parti 274 The Olio, Par. i 275 The Olio, Part J (v«i 276 The Trumpeter" s i)»v.gn- 277 Seeing Warren 27!^ Green Mountain Boy 279 That Nose 280 Tom Noddy's Secret VOL. XXXVI- Shrckiiig' Bventt . 211 Don'tForgetyour Opera 282 ^^ft;;';;,^* 212 Love in Livery |283 Sli* *;^^ ' ' , 21S Anthony and Cleopatra 284 Young b. .rn. 214 Trrine It On. *» Young ACireno VOL. XXIX. [ture 305 Too Much for Good Na- H06 Cure for the Fidgets 307 Jack's the Lad 308 Much A do about Nothing 309 Artful Dodger 310 Winning; Hazard 311 Day's liihing [*<•• 812 Did yon ever send your, )388 Two B' hoye VUL. XXX. 313 An Irishman's Maneuvet 314 Cousin Fannie 315 'T:-.:': " •■ -IITpurbe- 31()M - - Dawo 317 (■' '. -^n 318 G" : ' _ . !. t Siy Mau Willi (h»- Carpet Bag 320 Terrible Tinker j SAMUEL FEENCH * SON, 12* Nassao Stbkbt, Nkw York. LIbKAHY ur ouiNont^oo v 014 456 116 8 #